


Healers of the Mind

by wolfy_writing



Category: Marvel 616, Namor the Sub-Mariner (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:35:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29932143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfy_writing/pseuds/wolfy_writing
Summary: “If only there was a way to heal madness, the way a wound or an illness can be healed.  Some sort of physician, but for the mind.”AU from before The Invaders (2019).
Comments: 10
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

“We have noticed,” said the young Atlantean soldier.“The king is…not well.”

Jim glanced around to make sure no one was overhearing them.Namor seemed to have settled down after they’d defeated the fake Steve Rogers, but how he'd been acting…that worried Jim. 

He’d seen Namor’s rages before.He’d seen Namor in pain. He'd seen Namor in worse emotional states than he cares to remember.But the twisted festering mess of self-aggrandizing self-hatred Namor had shown while keeping Atlantis under lock and key was something Jim had never seen before.

And Namor had nearly cut off Namora’s head, because he’d somehow convinced himself it was what Atlantis needed from him.

The young soldier shook her head.“If only there was a way to heal madness, the way a wound or an illness can be healed.Some sort of physician, but for the mind.”

Jim blinked.“Are you talking about mental health care?”

The soldier gave Jim a puzzled look. “ _Mental_ health care? Care for the health of the mind?Is that something surface-dwellers have?”

Jim nodded.“We have…psychiatrists.Doctors who help people who are emotionally troubled.”

“What about people who’ve gone mad?”

“That’s not really how we categorize things,” said Jim. “A lot of people are…troubled, but it doesn’t help to be called mad.”It was one of the that had changed about the world since when Jim was young.These days, you didn't call people "mad" or "insane", because reality was a lot more complicated, and it was more helpful to understand people than to shrug them off as insane.

“But if one saw and spoke to people who were not real, that would be madness, yes?” the soldier asked.

“It would be…a severe mental illness.”Jim frowned.“Why?”

The soldier looked thoughtful. “Would the same healers be able to treat it? The sy-ki-a-tricks?”

“Psychiatrists,” said Jim.“And I _think_ so.Why? _Namor’s_ not hallucinating, is he?”He didn’t _seem_ to be hallucinating when Jim was around.He was moody, and sometimes distracted, but not _delusional_.

At least not that Jim had noticed.

The young woman straightened up.“I have spoken enough.I should return to my quarters soon, anyway.Thank you, for answering my questions, Jim Hammond of America.”She turned and marched off.

“You’re welcome.”Jim bit his lip.

He’d been planning to go home soon.He was going to retire, the way Toro kept urging him to.Start writing that memoir he’d always meant to put together some day.Relax.

But if Namor was talking to something that other people couldn't see, Jim needed to stay.That was dangerous.Whether Namor was being influenced by something invisible, or…having a particularly severe breakdown, something dangerous was going on.Someone needed to keep an eye on the situation.

And someone needed to protect Namor.Even if, no _especially_ if what he needed protection from was himself.

—

“Namor,” said Steve, “We need to have a serious talk.” 

It must be serious, Jim knew.Steve did not like the ocean, and only came down to Atlantis when he felt like it was necessary. 

“What brings you down here, Captain?”Namor paused.“It _is_ you, isn’t it?If Atlantis is attacked _again_ , a convenient imposter won't emerge to take the blame?"

Jim had started to notice the pauses.Namor would tilt his head like he was listening to something, and then he’d give an answer.

It _might_ just be a figment of Jim’s imagination.But Jim didn’t think so.

"I'm sorry about that, Namor."

"So you said."

"I've offered to help with the rebuilding."

"Atlantis does not take surface-dweller help," said Namor."Now tell me what you need Atlantis to help you with."

“Kidnappings,” said Steve.“Nearly twenty missing Americans.We have reason to believe the perpetrators are Atlantean.”

“And what evidence do you have of this?A suspicious puddle perhaps? They lived near the sea?"

“Video footage.It was either Atlanteans, or _other_ blue people with pointed ears wearing what looks like Atlantean breathing gear.”

Namor tensed up.Then he looked off to his right, and opened his mouth, as if to speak.He stopped himself, then turned back to Steve.“I do not know anything about this.I will investigate, and I assure you, if any of my people are guilty of this crime, they _will_ pay.”

“Good to hear it,” said Steve."If we rescue the kidnapping victims, and find the people responsible, we should be able to resolve this peacefully."

“Who was kidnapped?” Jim asked.

“That’s the odd part,” said Steve.“The only common factor they’ve identified is that they all seem to be psychiatrists.”

—

It didn’t take long to find the kidnapping victims.There weren’t _that_ many air-filled locations in Atlantis big enough to hide twenty people.

They were guarded by about thirty Atlantean soldiers, who all saluted sharply when Namor arrived.

“What is this?” Namor bellowed.“Who is responsible for this?”

A young woman stepped forward.She knelt down before Namor.“Your Majesty.I acted in defiance of orders, but my only thought was to serve the king.”

She was the same young woman Jim had spoken to earlier.

“To serve _me_?” Namor bellowed.“How could you _possibly_ imagine that this would serve me?”

She looked over at Steve, then Jim.“Best not to speak of it in front of the lung-men.”

“ _These_ men are my trusted friends,” said Namor.“You are a criminal!By the laws of Atlantis, your life is in my hands to dispose of as I wish.As I am allowing you to live for the time being, make use of that time and explain yourself.”

“That surface-dweller,” said the young woman, pointing at Jim.“He told me of the si-ki-a-trysts of the surface world, and how they can heal…madness, my king.They can heal the mad and restore them to wellness of the mind.I thought they could heal you.”

Steve looked at Namor, then looked at Jim and raised his eyebrows.

 _Later,_ Jim mouthed. 

Namor was nearly bursting with fury.“You think I’m _mad_?"

"Many have remarked on it, my king.You give orders that you do not remember.You cry out in your sleep.You hold conversations with one who is not there.Your madness seems to pain you, though you bear it bravely.I know you have surface-dweller blood, so I thought their medicine could heal you.”

Namor had gone pale.He looked around.“You…you think I’m mad?My own _soldiers_ think I’m mad?”

The Atlantean soldiers knelt. 

“We do, my king,” said the young woman.“But we are loyal to Atlantis and the crown, and prepared to do all we can to serve you.”

Steve put a hand on Namor’s shoulder.“We should check in on the kidnapping victims.”

—

Namora entered the throne room.“We have verified that the victims are all uninjuredI have made arrangements, with soldiers of known loyalty, to escort them peacefully back to the surface world.We will discuss compensation for their ordeal.”

“And,” Namor added, “the criminals will face the full weight of Atlantean justice.”

Namora turned to Namor.“Do not be too harsh on them.The leader, Kai, she said she did it for…Atlantis.”She glanced over at Steve and Jim.“She meant well.She needs to be disciplined, of course, and she will be.But with a less severe penalty, her loyalty and dedication can be of great service to the kingdom.”

“Namor,” Steve asked, “are you _okay_?”

“Always, Captain.” Namor's face was impassive.

“I mean it,” said Steve.“We’re your friends.”He stepped forward and put a hand on Namor’s shoulder.“What that woman, Kai said, is it true?”

Namor shrugged off Steve's hand.“No.”

“I have seen your memory problems,” said Namora.“You give orders and then are puzzled by them the next day.It has concerned me.”

“I know you have nightmares," said Jim. “You scream in your sleep, loud enough that half the palace can hear you.And you’re looking at or listening to _something_ that no one else can see.”

Namor looked over at an empty spot for a moment.Then he looked at Jim.“I do not know what you are talking about.Jim, are you sure that _you_ are well?You were not designed to be in water for this long.Perhaps if you returned to the surface, it would be better for your health.”

“For the love of God, Namor, stop _lying!_ ”Jim stepped closer.“We’ve _seen_ this.We’re your friends.We want to help you.Now for once in your life, tell the people who care about you what the problem is _before_ it becomes a catastrophe!”

“There is no problem.”Namor shook his head.He began pacing.“You have heard rumors, but they are nothing more than that.My enemies love to claim that I am insane. _Surely_ a man is allowed to have troubled dreams!And forgetfulness, moments when, due to the complexity of ruling a kingdom one loses track of details.It is _normal_.It is normal!”His gaze was increasingly drawn to a corner of the room"There is no risk!They have seen nothing, they have put nothing at risk, and there is no need to overreact!It is _my_ decision!I am in control, not you!”

“Namor?” Steve asked.“Who are you talking to?”

Namor gestured towards the corner."My advisor!"

"Namor," said Jim carefully, "There's no one there."

Namor stopped and looked at Jim.He looked back at the empty corner of his room, and then opened his mouth.

The color drained from his face. 

Namora bit her lip. “My cousin…”

There was a long awkward silence.

Namor's glance shifted, as if he was looking at something that wasn't there. 

After a long moment, he spoke.“I am _not_ mad.I do not _need_ surface-world psychiatrists.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.“However, I could use a brief...rest, if Namora is willing to watch over Atlantis while I...resolve some personal matters."He paused and closed his eyes for a moment."And it might be wise to speak to Miss Emma Frost."


	2. Chapter 2

"While I appreciate your company, Jim, I hope you realize it is unnecessary to follow me."

Jim shrugged."I had a lot of unused leave with S.H.I.E.L.D., and they don't let you cash out when you retire, so I may as well use it now."Not that he actually cared about that.The U.S. government owed him enough different kinds of pensions by now that'd he’d be financially comfortable for a long time.

"Is that the only reason you came?" Namor asked."You were not asked to keep an eye on me?Be sure that I have not gone mad?"

Jim sighed."Namora...she asked me to come with you, but I'd already decided to come along."Steve had asked, too.They both felt Jim was the best shot at handling things peacefully.Neither America nor Atlantis _wanted_ to force Namor to accept an escort to monitor his sanity, and if he agreed to spend time with his old friend Jim, it wouldn’t come down to that.

Jim would have come anyway.He wasn't going to leave Namor on his own right now.

Namor made a "Tch" noise, and stared off into the distance.

"She's concerned about you.We all are.I don't know what's going on with you right now, but I'd rather be here than not.You'd do the same for me."Jim paused."You _did_ do the same for me, remember?You followed me around the planet for _months_ when I had something wrong with my mind.You _never_ gave up on me, even when I was throwing fireballs at you.No matter how bad it got, you wouldn't abandon me when I needed you."

Namor shook his head."That was different.You had...a serious problem, and were in need of help.I am simply seeking to resolve a...manageable inconvenience."

Jim opened his mouth to argue.Namor was still being secretive about this, but what Jim had seen didn't _look_ like a manageable inconvenience.

It looked...well, Jim didn't know what the acceptable expression was these days, but it looked like Namor was losing his mind.

Jim considered the odds of him being able to get Namor to admit to having a serious problem, and decided it wasn’t worth it.At least not yet.

"Good," he finally said."If it's that simple, we can get this resolved, and I can tell you about my retirement plans.I can think of worse ways to spend my time than hang out with an old friend.Also, I'm writing a memoir, so you can help me with that.We can swap stories from the war.”

Namor's eyes widened at this, and for a second, Jim would swear he looked almost _frightened_.But he nodded silently, and stared straight ahead.

Occasionally, he'd tilt his head slightly, like he was listening to someone Jim couldn't hear.

—

“I must say,” said Emma, “I’m curious why you asked for me. Haven’t you been working together with Jean Grey?”

“Jean is pleasant enough, but I would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with you.”Namor took her hand and kissed it.

Emma smiled.“I hope you didn’t have Captain America call me, claiming it was an emergency, purely because you want to flirt?”She pulled her hand away.

“An emergency is, perhaps, an exaggeration.”Namor sighed.“An instance of past telepathic interference is creating…distracting effects.Rogers may have become unnecessarily alarmed.”

“Is it from the Phoenix?” Emma asked, with surprising sympathy.

“Tell her yes,” said Machan.“Tell her it’s the damage from the Phoenix.I will stay out of sight, she can heal _that_ , and we won’t put the plan at risk.And if you no longer have to contend with the harm the Phoenix caused you, you'll be able to work more effectively.”

Namor shook his head.“Many years ago, Charles Xavier interfered with my mind.I had learned to…manage the effects.However they have recently become distractingly strong, and I do not want to let it get worse.Therefore, I have concluded it would be wise to ask the bravest, finest, and most beautiful telepath I know to work on the problem.”

“I can keep quiet,” said Machan.“I can be more discreet.I’ve been stepping in when you needed me, because I don’t like to see you struggling, but I can do less.We don’t have to let her in.”

Emma frowned.“Why would Charles Xavier interfere with your mind?”

“That is irrelevant.”

“If I’m undoing telepathic interference, it’s important to understand what it was intended to do and where it went wrong.Also, I’d be fascinated to know how he talked you into agreeing to that.”

“I did not agree,” Namor said.He sighed."Xavier...did not give me a choice."

“Oh.”Emma tilted her head.There was a long pause, but when she responded, her voice was still light and calm.“What happened to your insistence that entering your mind was an act of war?You obviously didn't kill _Xavier_ for this.”

“This took place a long time ago.I was not King of Atlantis at the time.”And Namor had forgotten that this happened. Or not been allowed to remember. He suspected that Machan had, more than once, persuaded him this was for the best, and then stolen the knowledge from him.

"It _is_ for the best," Machan said."You have a great task, too much for any one man, even one as strong as you.You need my help."

“I see,” said Emma, giving him a thoughtful look.

Machan shook his head. “You really intend to give who knows what secrets to this surface-dweller?After all the work we’ve done?After the sacrifices people made? _This_ is madness.I did not think you were so weak.”

“Shut up,” said Namor.He looked at Emma Frost.“Not you.”

“The tampering?It's _speaking_ to you?”Emma frowned.“Well, let’s have a peek inside.”

—

Emma had always been intrigued by getting a look inside Namor's mind.It was his fault, really.He had, the first time they met, threatened to declare war on anyone who tampered with the inside his head.How could she _help_ but want a peek after that?

The first time he'd let her in, what he'd presented was controlled.Surprisingly honest, but also profoundly restrained.It had been the mind of a powerful man who'd shown her only what he wanted her to see.

This time was...different.

Emma looked around."There's more...fire damage than I expected."Phoenix fire hovered above them, boiling the water near the surface. 

It was contained by, as far as Emma could tell, pure willpower.That was very Namor, pitting raw strength against an enemy when it would have been more efficient and less painful to formulate a plan.

He'd done a remarkable job holding it at bay, but it must be exhausting.

"I could help you contain that," said Emma.“Unfortunately, I haven’t found a way to eliminate the effect, but there are ways to make it less disruptive."She had largely sealed off the Phoenix fire in her mind, keeping it relatively small and contained.She'd done better, in her opinion, than any of the others who'd hosted the Phoenix.

She hadn't bothered to advise any of _them_ on how to handle the problem more effectively.But she _liked_ Namor.

"I asked you to control Xavier's interference, not add on more mental tampering in the name of _help_ ," Namor said.

"Very well."Emma shrugged."Let's see what Xavier did."

Namor nodded.

A red-headed Atlantean appeared."Namor, what are you doing?"

"This is Machan," said Namor."He has been helpful in the past, offering wisdom and valuable council, but he has become...distracting."

Emma walked around Machan, circling thoughtfully."Interesting.Your mind has put some additional layers over Xavier's original work, but he appeared to have drawn on an emotionally intense memory to create some sort of...internal advisor"She put her hand on her chin."What was he trying to _do?_ "

"You don't have to explain yourself to this woman," said Machan.

"You don't," said Emma."Your cousin Namora has agreed to some...creative compensation for my time.It's far more generous if I do manage to resolve your little situation, but if your stubbornness prevents me from doing anything useful, I still get some decent rewards."

"Do you need the information in order to manage him?" Namor asked.

" _Manage_ him?I was going to shut the whole thing down."

"No!" Namor snapped."I do not want that.I simply wish to keep him firmly under my control."

It was an odd choice for him to make.Still, Emma thought it would be possible."That will be more complicated.And I _do_ need to know what Xavier was trying to accomplish, if you want me to be effective."

Namor folded his arms and looked at his feet."Xavier and I traveled together, a number of years ago.This was before my oxygen imbalance issues were understood.He believed my rages were due to...trauma from fighting in the Second World War.He attempted to create an internal therapist."

"He was struggling," said Machan."He doesn't like to admit it, but he's been struggling for a long time.He _needs_ help!He needs _me!"_

 _Well, if_ ** _this_** _isn't just a treasure-trove of information_ , Emma thought.There'd been considerable high-level government discussion about what Namor's motivations and issues actually _were_ , and the implications for international relations of the different theories about what drove his behavior.Emma had telepathically eavesdropped on a few of the more high-level conversations.

And now she was getting the answers handed to her on a silver plate.

Of course, she would have to be careful about how she used it.Namor was a good ally to have, as well as being good in bed.And she'd grown fond of him, on a level beyond what could be explained by his strategic usefulness and penchant for walking around in such delightfully small garments.It would be unwise to turn him against her, and she'd prefer not to cause him any harm. 

This situation was already concerning enough.How long had he been walking around like this? 

She'd have to be cautious about this, store anything she learned away in case it was needed in the future.But still, as far as information went, this was an exquisitely valuable find.

"Some sort of containment system might be helpful," said Emma."A psychic storage box where you can put him away, and take him out when you with to speak to him.It would require a little time for me to devise something."

Machan shook his head."That's a bad idea.You know you're too weak to do everything you need to do!You know you need me!This woman is trying to drive a wedge between us!"

"Perhaps some lessons on manners?" Emma asked.She was surprised Namor was letting this psychological construct speak to him like that.Normally, anyone who called him 'weak' would receive a short, painful demonstration of how strong Namor actually was.

"A containment system would be excellent," said Namor."The perfect solution."

"I can contain myself," said Machan."I have been...over-enthusiastic, but I can restrain myself.There is no need to put this woman between us."

Emma frowned. "You're sure you _want_ to keep him?"

Namor nodded.

Emma shrugged.“It’s your mind, darling.Now, let’s make your pet brain malfunction a nice kennel to live in.”

—

“How was it?” Jim asked.

Namor paused before speaking.“The matter is slightly more complex than I initially believed.I may be here for a little while.”

“Okay,” said Jim. “We can take all the time you need.”

“You do not need to remain with me,” said Namor. 

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Water Rat?” Jim asked.“Do I smell or something?”He sniffed himself in an exaggerated fashion. 

Namor smiled.“I did not want to keep you from any urgent business.However, if you have nothing more important to do, I am glad to have you around.”

“There isn’t anything more important,” said Jim.Namor needed him.He couldn't think of anything more important than that. 

“So,” Jim asked, “are you finally going to tell me what this is about?”

Namor tensed.He seemed to be struggling internally.“A long time ago, a man tampered with my mind,” he said finally.

Jim winced.“Destine?”If only he’d been around, been able to protect Namor, things would have been very different.

“A different man,” said Namor.“He thought he was _helping_ me. He created a…presence in my mind that communicated and…assisted with certain matters.It has become more…distracting.”He gave a sharp, irritated shake of his head, as if trying to shake off a fly.“I am confident Miss Frost can handle this issue.”

“I hope so,” said Jim.“If you ever want to talk any more about it… _can_ you talk about it?Is this…tampering preventing you from talking about it?”That would explain why Namor was being so vague and secretive.

“No,” said Namor.“It is distracting, but it does not control me.Namor is always in control.”

Jim wished he could believe that.

—

“That was a mistake,” Machan said.

“Which part?Speaking to Emma Frost, or telling Jim?”

“All of it.” Machan sighed.“Although at least Emma Frost can be trusted to keep a secret.”

“I can trust Jim Hammond absolutely.”

“You can trust him to do what _he_ believes is right.But can you trust him to do what _you_ know needs to be done?Can you trust _any_ surface-dweller with that?”

“I am not going to reveal the plan,” said Namor.“You have to admit, you have been distracting, though.It is making it difficult to be effective.”

“I can be quiet.”

“You were not quiet today!” Namor shouted.“When I spoke to Jim, you were screaming in my ear! I could scarcely hear myself think!”

“I worry about you!” Machan shouted.“I worry about your soft-heartedness, your sentimentally, your weakness and the guilt you _persist_ in carrying no matter how much you agree we are doing what needs to be done!” He shook his head.“You will be the greatest king that Atlantis, and indeed the world has ever known, if you just _follow the plan_.But if you let these surface-dwellers influence you, they will make you doubt yourself until you tear yourself apart.And all of our plans will be for nothing.Do I need to reming you how much depends on this?”

“Do not fear,” said Namor.“The plan is not in danger.”

He knew _exactly_ how much depended on it.


	3. Chapter 3

Namora’s expression on the communicator was serious.“My cousin, I have discovered your plan.”

“What plan is that?” Namor asked.

“The Genus Serum.The war.”She shook her head.“You must be truly mad to even _consider_ such horrors.”

“I am _not_ mad!”Namor stopped and drew a breath.“I am not mad.The plan, you must see, it is a good plan.It will save…”. He swallowed hard.“Everyone.It will save everyone.”

“I will not subject people to involuntary transformation!The…the serum, I will have it further tested for stability.Once I am satisfied as to the safety, I will offer it to any surface-dweller who _wishes_ to take refuge among our people.But we are _not_ inflicting it on people, and we are _not_ starting another war!”

“She doesn’t understand,” said Machan. “Explain it!Tell her how the surface-dwellers won’t accept the serum!”

“They will not accept it!Not soon enough.”Namor shook his head.“The surface-dwellers, they are in denial about the crisis they have created.And too many of them turn on their own kind.The ones who come to Atlantis will be branded as traitors, and abandoned or worse yet, attacked!That will frighten people away from the transformation, the surface-world population will continue to grow, and by the time the land is flooded or too hot for life, they will have polluted the seas beyond our capacity to survive!Can’t you see?The _only_ way is to force it on them now, swiftly, while we still have time!”

“I have heard enough,” said Namora.“I am speaking to the Council.I will be made regent, while you are…unwell.If and when you free your mind of malevolent influences, then I will step aside and let you reclaim your full rank and status.”

“Usurper!” Namor screamed.“Traitor!Stealing my throne like a common thief!”

“I am, at great cost, doing what Atlantis needs.I love you.Goodbye.”She ended the call.

Namor dropped the communicator on the floor, and stomped on it until it was in fragments. 

Jim opened the door. “Is everything okay?I heard shouting.”

“Did you know?” Namor roared. 

“Know what?”

“Did you know what that traitorous _witch_ was planning to do to me?”

“Traitorous witch?”Jim frowned.

“ _Namora_!”Namor snarled.“Queen Aquaria Neptunia Aquatica, as she will no doubt be known soon.She stole my throne!”

“Namora?”Jim wrinkled his nose.“That can’t be right.”

“Of course he takes her side,” said Machan. “You really thought he’d be loyal to you?”

“She told me to my face!"Namor paced."She has set the council to undermine me, claim I’ve gone mad, and steal my throne!”

Jim shook his head.“Namora…she loves you!She’d never do something like that to you!”

“He doesn’t believe you,” said Machan.“He doesn’t trust you.He thinks you’re insane.”

“You don’t trust my understanding?” Namor asked.“You think I’m too much of a madman to understand her words?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’ll notice,” said Machan, “that he doesn’t deny that he thinks you’re insane.”

“Do you?” Namor asked.“Do you think I’m insane?”

“I…” Jim pinched the bridge of his nose.“I don’t know what to think!Not when you act like this!”

“You cannot trust him!” Machan shouted.“I told you!"

“Do not presume to tell me who to trust!" Namor snapped.

“Namor, look at yourself!” Jim shouted.

“Does he stand by you now?" Machan asked."Does he help you at your hour of need?”

“You’re destroying things, making wild accusations, screaming at your friends, talking to someone who isn’t even _there_!” 

“Does he treat you like a respected ally and comrade-in-arms?No, he treats you like a lunatic!He may _pity_ you, but he has no faith in you!”

“What am I _supposed_ to think when I see you acting like this?Am I supposed to believe that you’re _well?_ ”

“Jim Hammond is not on your side!”

“Shut up!” Namor shouted.“Shut up, both of you!I am done with being told what to do!”

They both shut up. 

Jim’s face crumpled, as if he were about to cry.“Namor…”

“I am leaving.Do not follow if you know what’s good for you.”Namor stormed over to the window, tore it open, and flew away.

—

"So, my cousin, is it Imperius Regina now?"

Namora turned. 

Namor was sitting in the corner of her bedchamber, his face unreadable.

"What are you doing here?"Had he been healed so swiftly?

"What am I doing in my own palace?In my own kingdom?Why am I not safely packed off to the surface world, while you steal my kingdom?"

Namora felt the blood drain from her face.Namor, she realized, was still insane."I am not stealing your kingdom. I give you my word as a princess of the blood.But you are not well, and until you are healed, I cannot allow you to rule Atlantis or go forward with your plan."

"You cannot _allow_ me to rule Atlantis?"Namor brought his fist down hard, shattering the chair." _You_ cannot allow _me_?You grow bold, cousin."

Namora nodded."I do.My boldness is not for myself, but for the kingdom.Much like you, I would do anything for Atlantis."

" _Is_ it for Atlantis?"Namor stood."First you tried to seduce me into marriage.When that failed, you lead an armed rebellion against me, and _demanded_ I share my power with you.And now you have me declared insane, and steal what power I have left.How long until this pretense of a regency falls apart, and you have yourself crowned?"

"I will not," said Namora."Not...if you can be healed."She was not entirely sure if he _could_ be healed.If he was well again, she would happily step down.She had no desire for the excruciating tedium of being a monarch.She vastly preferred to be free to roam and adventure, both on the surface and in the sea.

But she would _not_ leave Atlantis to suffer under a mad king.

"You're sure about that?"He stepped closer."You're not growing fond of power?You don't think Queen Aquaria Neptunia has a nice ring to it?"He reached a hand up, and she flinched, but he only brushed her hair back behind her ear.

"I have given you my word, Namor.As soon as you are well the throne is yours.If that is not enough, I don't know what more you might want from me."

"I want your surrender," said Namor.His hand slid down to the side of her neck."I want you to surrender, end the regency, and recognize the only true king.If you do...we can settle this mercifully...a brief exile..."His words grew halting.He seemed to be fighting himself."One year.That is enough punishment.I said, that is _enough_!" 

"Listen to yourself, cousin," Namora said."How can you rule a kingdom?You cannot even rule yourself."

"So you will not end this peacefully?"

"I will not be deterred from doing what Atlantis needs," Namora said."Or what you need."

"So be it," said Namor.His hand on her neck shifted, and his grip began to grow tighter.

Namora lifted both of her feet and kicked him through the wall.

Namor pulled himself upright in the rubble of the wall."Your true colors revealed!Machan was right about you!I never should have trusted you!You will regret betraying the Avenging Son!"

Namora swam out of the bedchamber, and up, as rapidly as she could.If Namor was in a rage, she was taking him far away from the people of Atlantis, where no one else would get hurt.

And if she had _any_ hope of defeating him in a fight, it would be in the air.

—

"Namora!" Jim called.She was flying faster than he'd ever seen.

She looked at Jim."It's Namor! We have to stop him!"

Jim nodded.He'd hoped it wouldn't come to this."Keep him in the sky!" 

If Namor stayed out of the water, Jim could dehydrate him until he passed out, and they'd be able to get him to Emma Frost for a more long-term solution.

Namor flew into view."So the traitors conspire together?I should have known not to trust you!"He hovered, glaring.

He was hesitating, Jim realized.He was trying to persuade himself to attack. Or _something_ in his head was trying to persuade him to attack.

"Namor, I know you're in there!You can't want this!We're your friends!"

"Friends?" Namor snarled."A king does not have friends!"He charged Jim.

Jim flew up high, as far from the water as he could get.He shot fireballs, not quite close enough to burn Namor, but close enough that he'd be feeling the heat.

"You missed!" Namor shouted.He was starting to weaken, his reflexes beginning to slow.

But he was closing in on Jim.Jim wasn't sure how long he could play it safe like this. If he flamed on intensely, he could really hurt Namor. 

But if Namor was still in a rage, _he_ could really hurt _Jim_.

Namora caught Namor by the feet, and flung him into the distance.He fell, and for a moment, Jim thought he was going to hit the ocean, but he caught himself and hovered in mid-air. 

"Machan was right about you!He was right about you all!"

Machan?Jim knew that name from somewhere.He mentally filed it away, and flew closer to Namor.

He circled Namor rapidly, blazing hot enough that Namor wouldn't dare grab him, and gradually spun him higher and higher into the air.

"I never should have...trusted you!"Namor panted and gasped.It was visibly an effort for him to stay up in the air."I was a fool...to think...you were my friend!" 

Namora charged in and struck Namor on the head, knocking him unconscious.She caught him in her arms."Please, Hammond, take him back to the surface-world healers."

Jim nodded, and took Namor in his arms.He wasn't sure what to say.

Namora put a hand on Jim's shoulder."One day, he will remember that you are the truest friend he's ever had."

Jim hoped that she was right.

—

"Where am I?" Namor asked.

"In a sense you're at my place," said Emma."In another sense, we're inside your mind.I understand you rather lost your temper, and we judged it would be best to sort that out before letting you be fully awake again."

"You _trapped_ me inside my own mind?"

"Strictly temporary.Dr. Nemesis is checking your blood oxygen levels and using some sort of portable brain scanner he's devised."Emma pinched the bridge of her nose."I hope the results are worth it.That machine of his is spreading grease _everywhere_."

"You have me trapped inside my own mind, while that lunatic _experiments_ on me?"Namor's fists clenched.

"Non-invasive testing only," said Emma."Namor, I'm not your enemy. Nor am I a fool.We are going to resolve this disruption of your mind, and then, as soon as I'm confident you're stable enough to handle yourself without destroying my bedroom decor, or throttling your royal cousin, I will wake you up and you can decide what to do next.Believe me, if I wanted to keep you prisoner I wouldn't be nearly this obvious about it."She smiled."If _that_ was my plan, you would never see it coming."

Namor paused.She had a point.Emma was capable of _far_ more subtlety than this.

"You need to comply," said Machan."It's the only way you're going to get out of here.We can develop a better plan later.Play along and make them think they've won."

Emma looked at Machan."I see we have a visitor."

"You can see him?" Namor asked.

"In here I can.He doesn't like that, does he?"Emma stared at Machan."I'm afraid containment is sounding less and less like a safe option.May as well rip off the bandaid right away.You'll feel better when it's done."

Machan turned to Namor."You're going to let me be killed again?"

Emma moved her hand.

Machan flickered.

Namor howled in pain.

Emma paused."That wasn't supposed to hurt _you_."She looked at Namor, then at Machan, and made a different hand gesture.

A complicated tangle of lines became visible, connecting Namor and Machan.

"Oh dear," said Emma."He's become deeply entangled.Are you holding onto him?That's going to make him much harder to remove."

"I don't _want_ him removed!" Namor snarled.

"That's worrying in of itself.However, apparently I _can't_ remove him right now," said Emma."Not without causing permanent damage.We can start with the containment system.I expect you'll find it easier to think clearly without him shouting in your ear.And then I can wake you up."

_You need to comply.It's the only way you're getting out of here._

Namor nodded.

Machan looked at Namor, and then nodded.

Emma slightly inclined her head, and a box moved to enclose Machan. 

It looked small, and unsettlingly coffin-like.

"Your brain put quite a morbid spin on that, didn't it?" Emma asked."One of these days, after we've sorted this out, I'm going to get the whole story out of you over a nice dinner and drinks.Your treat, of course."She looked at Namor."From the look on your face, quite a lot of drinks."She stepped over to the coffin."If you open this smaller door, you should be able to speak to him, any time you want."

Namor opened the window.Machan's face appeared, behind a set of bars.

"This is all symbolism, you do know that?" Emma asked."I used psychic energy and mental suggestion to prevent you from seeing and hearing this mental construct unless you actively choose to communicate.It's your mind that made a coffin and a prison."

Namor nodded.It _was_ his mind.But the face, in the coffin...

"Now, if you're ready, we can wake you up.Be aware, if you start attacking people, I _will_ put you down for another nap."

"I will be peaceful," Namor said.

—

Namor awoke.He was lying on a bedspread.Was this Emma Frost’s guest bedroom?

"Well, I was hardly going to put you in the _master_ bedroom," said Emma."You were _dripping_ wet."

She stood across the room, out of reaching distance.She, Namor suspected, wanted to be able to incapacitate him in an instant if he lashed out violently.

Namor sat up. 

Jim Hammond leaned in."How do you feel?"

"Calm," said Namor."It's quiet...in my head."

"Glad to hear it," said Jim."The fight earlier...I wouldn't have done that if I didn't have to, I hope you understand."

Namor nodded."Of course.You were protecting Namora." 

What was the right thing to say?What would convince them that he was well?

"You did the right thing," said Namor."I thank you.You are a true friend."

From the relieved smile on Jim's face, he believed every word."I'm so glad you're better!"

"Not completely," said Emma."I've contained the problem, but I haven't resolved it.I'm afraid this is going to take time.And we may need to call in a specialist." 

Jim looked confused.

"A therapist of some sort.I'm happy to offer my abilities as a telepath, but healing other people’s emotional issues is not my forte."

"Xavier is a telepath and a psychiatrist," said Jim.

"No," said Namor and Emma, in unison.

"Trust me," said Emma, "Xavier would be the worst person to call in."

Jim looked puzzled, then nodded."We'll find someone else."

Namor forced himself to restrain his rage.They thought were going to inflict a _psychiatrist_ on him?They didn't even bother to _consult_ him?How dare they?

Instead he smiled, and tried to think of what would convince them he was compliant.What would Rogers say in this situation?

"I think that's a good idea," he said."It’s time I got some help."

—

The next part of his plan was twofold.

First, he gained access to an unattended communication device.It wasn't difficult.Jim had a phone, and was careless in keeping track of it.

Namor went on an old internet forum for fans of Bob Dylan, and posted an innocuous message.The automatic signature on his profile was a scrap of song lyrics, with a tiny difference, of the sort that could be passed off as a typo.

"Nothing really matters, it's Doom alone that counts."

In less than an hour, there was a response, with another equally innocuous typo.

"'Come in' he said, 'I'll give you shelter from the storm.'"

Then Namor did the second part, persuading them to let him out for an unaccompanied walk.It took more work, particularly since he needed to not seem over-eager.

Fortunately, a rainstorm struck, and he persuaded Jim that the water would be healing.

It was not long until the Latverian ship landed.

"Prince Namor?" asked the soldier who emerged."The king of Atlantis in exile?"

Namor nodded.

"Doom offers his alliance."

Namor boarded the ship."Thank him on my behalf.And take me away from here."


	4. Chapter 4

“They called me insane!” Namor shouted.

Doom nodded.“Many great men have been called insane.”

“All of them!Even my own cousin!”He turned to Doom.“Victor, do _you_ think I am insane?”

“No,” Doom lied.

It was ugly to see this happen to Namor.He had always been, in Doom’s opinion, too emotion-driven. But whatever had happened to him was making him _weak_.

Namor would spent long stretches alone in his room, carrying on conversations with an invisible presence.There would be arguments.Namor, it seemed, would often lose.

Doom had, of course, scanned for every source of magical, psychic, technological or other external interference.There _was_ no external interference.

Namor's mind was giving way.

"The Princess Regent of Atlantis has accused Latveria of kidnapping you," said Doom."She claims you are ill, fragile, and insane, and I have taken advantage of your weakened state."

"She said _what_?"

"She has cast you as a helpless madman, and claimed that Doom is exploiting you."

"Disgusting!" Namor snorted."You are my last true ally!Is it not enough that she stole my throne, but she must humiliate me at every step?"

"She will be made to regret those words in due time," said Doom."In the meantime, I have prepared a short statement that you can deliver, to correct these misconceptions."He handed the paper.

"Absolutely."Namor looked at the paper, then paused."Some of this wording is...I mean Namora betrayed me, but...is it in the best interest of Atlantis to call for an uprising at this point?My people have been through enough."

"I simply seek to restore you to defeat the usurper and restore you to the throne as quickly as possible."Inwardly, Doom felt a strange sense of relief.Namor disagreeing with Doom was the most normal thing he’d done since he’d arrived.

Namor looked down at the paper again, then off to a blank patch fo the wall.He seemed to be having an invisible argument. 

At last, he shook his head strangely, as if attempting to dislodge something from his ear, and folded up the paper."I will consider the wording, and give you my answer tomorrow."

Doom nodded. "As you wish."

—

Namor was in his chamber, staring at the paper.Yes, he'd called Namora a traitor and usurper several times, but that had been in the heat of anger. 

Did he _want_ to shout that out to the world?Did he _want_ to call for an uprising against her?

Namor closed his eyes and opened the small door Emma Frost had built inside his mind.

"She deserves it," said Machan."She stole your throne!"

"Did she?" Namor asked.She'd said it was only a regency.She'd given her word as a princess of the blood.

And, well, he _did_ think more clearly with Machan restrained.At times, Machan would speak rapidly and loudly, making it difficult for Namor to concentrate on his own thoughts.

"What about the plan?" Machan asked.

"She has dismantled that," said Namor."I don't know if it will be possible to rebuild it at this point."

"We must try!For the sake of the entire world, we need to try!”

"I don't want to put my people through another war."

"Better one war, a limited and contained war with as few casualties as possible, than all of the wars that will happen if we do nothing!You know what surface-dwellers do when they're faced with famine, water shortages, and refugees!You've _read_ the best predictions!You've _seen_ the lack of will to change!They will destroy themselves and take the oceans with them!And all of the so-called heroes are unwilling to do what needs to be done!If the heroes are too soft, the the villains too selfish, the Atlanteans too few, and the surface-dwellers too set in their destructive ways, who is left to act?If neither hero nor villain nor Atlantean nor human can save the day, who does that leave?"

Namor nodded."Me."

"I know you love Namora, but would you choose her life above _billions_?If she understood the danger, would she even _want_ that from you?"

Namor shook his head."I will think about what you said."

"Please do," said Machan."The longer you wait, and the less decisively you strike, the harder it will be to salvage the plan."

—

Namor was in the bath when he saw Bucky Barnes climb through the window.

"Barnes, what are you doing here?"

Barnes sat on the sill."That depends on you."

Namor tilted his head.

"Namora told me you'd been kidnapped and asked me to rescue you.Steve said you'd been mind-controlled, and asked me to take you back so you could be cured.And Jim said you were in trouble and needed a friend to help you out."Barnes smiled. "I thought I'd show up and ask you what the real story was."

"I am not a prisoner," said Namor. 

"Okay, that's one option off the table."Barnes hopped down from the sill, and sat down on the edge of the tub.

He had _changed_ , Namor noticed, since he'd first been restored to himself.He seemed...not the old Bucky Barnes that he'd been in the war, but in some ways closer to who he used to be.He had regained a playfulness, a humor, a certain ease and optimism. Barnes had tried to imitate it when he'd first been restored, but now it seemed real.

"I am not mind-controlled," said Namor."There was...tampering, but not in the sense that Rogers described.It it old, and I have made arrangements to have it contained."

Barnes frowned."The amnesia?"

Namor shook his head."A man who thought I was ill, and believed he knew how to help."

Barnes nodded."I hear you.But still, when it comes to people tampering with your mind, you don’t want to mess around. Mental programming can be bad news, even if it's not following the original goals."

"It is not programming," said Namor."He thought I had an illness of the mind.He sought to heal me.He thought he knew what was best for me and imposed his idea of a solution upon me.His actions did not have the results he expected.”

Barnes drew a hissing breath through his teeth."Sounds nasty.You have it contained?"

"I sought a telepath of my choosing, and had it contained to my satisfaction."Namor cast around mentally for an explanation that would satisfy Barnes."I was informed that it would not be safe to remove it completely.However I now have the capacity to contain its influence and ignore it when I wish.”

"Okay, good."Barnes nodded.“If someone was controlling you, I’d have to drag your fishy butt off somewhere so we could free you from that. And that would be a pain, because you’re a lot bigger than me.So, that's two options down."

"I do not need _your_ help," said Namor.

"You sure?I know mental tampering can be rough stuff.I know that even after I got the program knocked out of me, it took me a while to really get my head screwed on right.I kept having thoughts that were...automatic, you know?Things that, even when I wasn't being controlled anymore, I'd thought them so many times or been told them so many times that they felt natural.Then I'd spook myself and wonder if I was going crazy.It's not really the kind of thing someone can handle on their own."

"I am not you," said Namor.Some of Barnes said had...uncomfortable echoes.But Namor had not been programmed, or enslaved, or under another's thumb.He had _controlled_ Machan, made Machan work for him.

Even when Machan was in control, there hadn't been someone else driving him, some puppet master pulling Namor's strings.Machan was a part of Namor's mind, and he was, at his core, Namor.

What he wanted was what Namor wanted.Even if Machan was…more determined about the means.

"Yeah, I noticed," said Barnes."The pointy ears are kind of a giveaway.So, do you want to talk about what's going on?"

"No," said Namor.

Barnes looked around."Hang out?But if any Doombots come, you'd need to help me fight my way out of here."

"You are not needed," said Namor."I know you have come to persuade me to leave with you, but you have failed and you may depart."

Barnes nodded."I mean I think it'd be a good idea for you to come with me, but I wasn’t planning to force you unless you...well, unless you weren't you.”

“You might have _tried_ to force me,” said Namor.“I doubt you would have succeeded.”

“Maybe not.”Barnes shrugged.“If you want me to go, I’ll go.”He started climbing out the window, and paused halfway.“You know, when Steve rescued me, he did it with the Cosmic Cube.He could have made all kinds of things happen.He could have asked for his old Bucky back, just like he remembered.He could have said anything, and made it happen.Do you know what he said?”

“The Pledge of Allegiance?” Namor asked, sarcastically.

“Be who you are.That’s what he wanted for me.Not to be who he _hoped_ I was, but to be free enough from all the crap that had been done to me that I could be who I really was.”Barnes looked at Namor.“That’s what we want for you, Subby.That’s all we’re trying to do.” 

He climbed out the window and left.

—

Namor took the re-written statement with him to Doom’s communication room.It was not as…provocative as Doom or Machan wanted.

 _They_ were not in control of Namor’s statement.Only Namor was in control.

Namor paused outside the room.Doom was speaking to someone.

“The war will destabilize Atlantis, of course.With any luck, it will permanently weaken the kingdom.I thought it would make a nice client state for Latveria.The mad king will make a good puppet.He is weak enough to do what I say.”

“If he doesn’t make the statement?”Kristoff’s voice. 

“He will.He is humbled and at my mercy.He will do whatever I command, or he will learn how helpless he truly is.”

Namor stifled an angry shout.That treacherous snake!He was planning to use Namor to damage Atlantis! 

Namor crumpled up the paper, threw it on the floor, and stormed off.He went back to his bedchamber, climbed out the window, and flew away.

He had no idea where to go next. 

But he would _not_ be used.

—

“He’s gone,” said Kristoff.“The Doombots confirmed that he’s on his way to the border.They are programmed to follow closely enough to _almost_ capture him.Now, would you tell me what that little bit of play-acting was about?”

“Pitting Namor against Namora would have been a disaster for Latveria.We do not want our strongest and most reliable ally weakened by a war of succession.”

“So why didn’t you just _tell_ him that?”

Doom paused.“You saw the state he was in.If I had told him directly that he was insane, and I wanted no part of his plan, he would have done something even more desperate.”

Kristoff nodded.“Is that why you let Barnes sneak in and try to lure him away?”

“That is correct,” said Doom.“And it is useful to have Barnes overestimate his ability to slip past Doom’s defenses.By feigning weakness, Doom has lured his foes into a position of overconfidence.”

“And when that plan failed, you decided to drive him away?How is that better than rejecting him in the first place?”

“You must understand the psychology of Namor,” said Doom.“If he’d been rejected in his initial rage, he would have gone off immediately in search of other powerful and dangerous allies."Doom still recalled Namor's experience with the Cabal.If he had joined with Thanos in order to save his kingdom and the world, there was no limit to what a desperate Namor might do. And that was _before_ he’d gone mad.”However, he will now seek to defy what he believes is the will of _Doom_ , by rejecting any attempt to start a civil war in Atlantis.”

“So he’s going back to Namora and Captain America?” Kristoff asked.

“Not immediately, but I believe he will conclude that is the best choice.”

“And this is all for strategic reasons?”

Doom nodded.

“Not because you have a soft spot for Namor?”

“Doom does not have a soft spot.”

“Of course not,” said Kristoff.“You’ve just convinced your best ally that you’ve been plotting to betray him and undermine his kingdom, so he'll go back to his friends, who are your enemies, and let _them_ help him instead.Clearly that was for _strategic_ reasons.”

“Do not test me,” said Doom.He watched Namor’s trajectory on the surveillance satellites. 

Then he sent a message to a Latverian triple agent, posing as a double agent for S.H.I.E.L.D.

If Doom was correct, Namor would, after some time to cool down, accept whatever treatment would cure what had been broken inside his mind.He would have some anger at Doom’s ‘betrayal’, but it would pass in time, due to the usefulness of the Atlantis-Latveria alliance and Doom’s superior ability to understand Namor.And Atlantis would neither be permanently ruled by Namora, who was hostile to Latveria, nor weakened by an avoidable war.

Doom was highly confident in his predictions.Doom’s ability to predict Namor’s choices exceeded even the foremost experts, and far outstripped that of his so-called friends. 

However, the longer the delay, the greater the risk of harm coming to Namor.Which would, of course, weaken Doom’s plans.

The triple agent was merely ensuring that Doom’s efforts were not wasted.

Kristoff was incorrect.There was no soft sentimentality about this.

Doom’s political calculations were merely too advanced for Kristoff.

That was all.


	5. Chapter 5

Jim flew back and forth through the Arctic blizzard.It was difficult to make out any shapes through the driving snow.

“Namor!” he called out. “It’s Jim!If you’re out there, please let me know!”

No response.The smuggled Latverian satellite data had Namor flying to Antarctica, somewhere around the Filchner-Ronne Ice Shelf, near the Weddell Sea.

There’d been some dispute about the validity of the information, but Jim had volunteered to search the area.

Namor was _born_ in the Weddell Sea.The Filchner-Ronne ice shelf was the first part of the surface world he'd ever set foot on.Someone who was good at research might have faked that, but it was oddly specific.

Still, that left Jim searching an area the size of Sweden.And that was only if Namor was on _land_.

Namora had people searching the water.But Jim thought Namora was…not using the most effective approach.She clearly cared about Namor, and Jim wouldn’t even say she’d done anything _wrong_ , but the way she handled things tended to provoke Namor, and Jim thought that was the last thing the situation needed.

Jim had been flying high and scanning for anything that stood out, taking advantage of the fact that not much down there looked like a human.

But then the blizzard hit. 

Half-blinded by snow, he shouted into the driving storm.“Namor!It's Jim!I'm here to help!Let me help you!Namor!”

There was no response.

—

Finally, after flying for longer than he could count, Jim spotted a small figure sitting on the ground.

He flew closer.“Namor?”

Namor didn’t look up.He was sitting with his knees tucked up under his chin, his arms around his legs. 

Jim flew slowly, lowered his flame, and then extinguished it and walked towards Namor.“Namor, it’s Jim.”

“The ice shelf extended further when I was a boy.”Namor still didn’t look up.“And there was more pack ice in the sea.”

Jim sat down. 

“They don’t see what they’re doing,” said Namor.“They live such brief lives.They look at the world, and they live _barely_ long enough to see that it wasn’t always like this, that the ice is shrinking, the reefs are dying, and the sea is poorer, emptier, and less alive.Then the next generation comes along, and they think the world was always like this."He sighed."Perhaps I should be glad that they don’t live longer.One hundred wealthy surface-dwellers have done most of the damage to the world, and most of them are growing old.”

Jim hadn’t expected the conversation to be about industrial capitalism and climate change, but as long as Namor wanted to talk, Jim was prepared to listen.

“The next civilization is going to be your kind,” Namor said.

“My kind?” Jim asked.

“Androids.Synthetic and mechanical people.Artificial intelligence.When the surface-dwellers have made the world unlivable for humans and Atlanteans alike, your kind will step in and create the next civilization.Perhaps I will be written down in your history books.King Namor the Failure.That is if my people are remembered at all.”

“What did you fail at?” 

“It does not matter anymore,” said Namor. “That is the meaning of failure.It does not matter what you _tried_ to do, only what you were not strong enough to do.”

“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself.Look, I don’t know what you’ve been trying to do, but you haven’t been well.If it’s that important, you can get better and then try again.”

Namor shook his head.“Too late.The world does not have unlimited time, and some windows of opportunity are very narrow.”

“What was it you were trying to do?”

Namor didn’t respond.

They sat in silence for a while.

—

“Machan?” Jim asked.“ _Tommy_ Machan?”

Namor looked at him. “You remember?”

Jim nodded.“I was never as close to him as you were, but I remembered.He was a good kid. And I remember he meant a lot to you.The person who tampered with your mind, he made you hallucinate _Tommy_ _Machan_?”That was just cruel.If Jim ever found out who’d done that to Namor, he was going to have words with them.

“It was supposed to be a form of therapy,” said Namor.“It was supposed to calm my rage, and help me address…he said I had trauma and needed help.”

“Makes sense,” said Jim.“I mean after everything you've been through, it would be expected."

Namor let out a frustrated groan, and let his head flop forward onto his knees. 

“Not the right thing to say?” Jim asked.

“It was very American of you,” said Namor, his voice half-muffled by his knees.

“What do you mean?”

“Instead of looking at the state of the world and what needs to be done, you're talking about the emotional state of one person.Very American.”

“I mean I’m not wrong,” said Jim.“You _have_ been through a lot.”

“And you think _my_ past is more important than the future of the _world_?”

“Namor, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t."

There was another silence.

—

“Does he still talk to you?” Jim asked.“Machan?”

“Less,” said Namor.He’d uncurled a bit, and had his legs extended in front of him. “Emma Frost created a containment system.Now he only speaks to me when I choose.”

“You’re still choosing to speak with him?”

Namor nodded.

 _“Why?”_ And why had Emma Frost _contained_ Namor’s hallucination instead of eliminating it?

“He has been advising me for a long time.His advice has been, for the most part, wise.My mind was weakened, perhaps by age, perhaps by…other events in my life, and he has grown distractingly loud and insistent.But I would not wish to lose his advice altogether.”

Jim didn’t like that.“I mean, he’s a hallucination.”

“I know,” said Namor.“He told me.During the argument with Rogers, Machan explained.”

“You didn’t know that before?” Jim asked.

“I may have.My memory has been…confused.Machan has been helping me.”

Jim shook his head.“I don’t think he’s helping as much as you think.In fact, I'd guess that he’s making things worse.”

“You do not understand what he has done for me.You do not understand how much he has helped me, because you do not understand what needed to be done.”

“Than explain it to me!” Jim said.“Stop dropping all of these cryptic hints and _explain_ what you mean!”

“I cannot.”Namor looked up at Jim.“It is too complicated.And you do not know what it’s like to be king.”

“Are you back on _that_ again?”Jim sighed.“If I hear you say a king does not ask for help one more time, I’m going to throw something.I understand it's hard, but the way you treat yourself makes it harder.All of this pressure you put on yourself doesn’t make you a better king.When you try to take everything on alone, you make terrible choices, and you hurt people.If you want to make _everyone_ less miserable, yourself included, you’ll drop that malarkey about how you alone must shoulder the burden, and let people help you.”

Namor sighed. “I am very tired, Firebug.”

“I can tell,” said Jim.Namor _looked_ tired.Just looking at Namor's face left Jim itching to grab him and fly him into the nearest body of water until he felt better.

That was what he'd done in the war, whenever Namor was sick or hurt. Fly him into the water and wait for it to heal him. 

Unfortunately, it was going to take more than that to heal whatever was hurting Namor now.

“Machan…he has no advice for me now.And I do not know what to do.”

“First thing you’re going to do is come back with me to Atlantis,” said Jim. “We’re going to show Namora that you’re not a prisoner of Doom, and she doesn’t need to declare war on Latveria to rescue you.”He stood up and held out a hand.“After we’ve stopped a war, we’ll figure something out.I'll make sure you can get some rest.”

Namor took Jim’s hand and let Jim help him up.

Namor rarely accepted help. 

Jim _hoped_ this was a good sign.


	6. Chapter 6

The place they put Namor was, in material terms, more than generous.

It was a small island, owned by Namora, with a tropical lagoon that was perfect for an easy swim.It had a house, half in the water and half on land, so Namor could spend his time in the water or in the air. 

The underwater portion had Atlantean servants, to cater to Namor’s needs.And, he knew, to keep an eye on him and report back to Namora.

The surface portion of the house had paid human servants.Namor wondered how many of them were selected by S.H.I.E.L.D.Rogers and the Avengers certainly seemed to be involved in the decision-making.

Logical, Namor supposed.Contain the Mad King of Atlantis, and ensure he didn’t hurt anyone or threaten the status quo.That seemed to be what the Avengers were good for, maintaining the status quo.Reacting to immediate threats with simple answers, and neglecting the slow, complex ones that were killing the world.

Emma Frost, was busy, but she’d set up a remote link which let her intermittently connect psychically with Namor.

He didn’t like her having a permanent presence in his mind.Jean Grey had offered to step in, but Namor didn’t want _more_ people digging through his psyche.And all other telepaths were people he trusted even less.

There were no good alternatives, so Namor had agreed to Emma’s proposition as the least bad alternative.

One person who _had_ agreed to live on the island was a therapist who someone had hired.Jim had been involved in selecting her, apparently, and she’d made a good impression on Namora.

—

“I want you to understand that this is a safe space,” said Francesca, in her soft, sing-song voice.“It’s okay to be vulnerable.”

(She had asked him to call her “Francesca” on the first day. He’d told her that she could address him as “Your Imperial Majesty, Namor the First, the Avenging Son of Atlantis”, or simply “Your Majesty” for short.Since then, he’d noticed, she’d only addressed him as "you".)

“Therapy can bring up a number of emotions.You may find yourself feeling hurt, sad, or scared.”

“What about anger?” Namor asked.He had more anger than he knew what to do with.At times, his own anger frightened him.

“Anger is a secondary emotion,” Francesca said.“Anger is the mind’s way to protect itself against more vulnerable feelings.You may have learned to cover up for feeling hurt, humiliated, rejected, scared, or sad by using anger to protect yourself.We want to find out what you’re feeling _before_ you use anger to protect yourself.”

This woman made no sense.Was _that_ how surface-dweller emotions worked?Yes, anger _sometimes_ came in response to a humiliation, but often, it came naturally, raw and powerful and compelling. There was nothing _behind_ it.It simply _was_.

Was Namor supposed to be _healed_ by this fool?

Perhaps this was the price of breaking before his task was done.His plan had been lost, his throne had been lost, and now he was condemned to sit in a room with this surface-dweller explaining his feelings to him while all around him, the world burned.

Unless Machan had a plan.But since Namor left Latveria, Machan had very little to say.

"So," Francesca asked, "Where do you want to begin?"

—

“How are you?” Jim asked, as they walked along the beach.

Namor shrugged.

“Yeah?I hear therapy can be rough.”He'd talked to Bucky, and it sounded like trauma therapy was pretty intense and exhausting.And apparently people sometimes got worse before they got better.

Considering the state that Namor was already in, that was a frightening thought.

Namor was staring off at the ocean. 

“Look, I know it’s hard right now, but stick with it.It will get better.”

Namor looked off into the distance.

“Have you been talking to Machan?”Jim asked.

There was a pause before Namor spoke.“No.We have not spoken since I arrived.”

“Good,” said Jim.“That’s good.Keep that up.You’re doing good work.”

Namor let out a derisive snort.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but trust me.Just stick with it, and everything will be so much better.”

—

Francesca gave Namor a book.

It was supposed to teach him to be kind to himself.

It advised him to pet himself, as if he were a stingray or a kitten.

It advised him to call himself “poor darling” and speak to himself as if he were a child.(No, Namor didn’t even speak to _children_ the way the book advised him to speak to himself.He had spent time around Nae Peterson when she was small, and then again around Roman from when he was born.He had managed to speak to them kindly and patiently without engaging in this condescending nonsense.)

It advised him to put his hand to his own chest and say, “This is the moment of suffering, may I be kind.”Presumably, the feeling of disgust this elicited was not the intended effect.

It advised him to think of the ways his pains and failures were shared by others, and how universal his experience really was.Namor tried to consider the ways in which _he_ , Namor the First, the Avenging Son of Atlantis, had the same experiences as an ordinary surface-dweller, but he failed. 

The author discussed her pain at having an autistic child, how much suffering it caused her that her son was not what she’d anticipated, and how she’d learned to connect with the pain of other mothers who were suffering due to the tragedy of having children who were not what was expected and desired.

_You were different from the very start, Namor, and though I loved you as any mother would, it was not always easy to embrace you._

_I know you have always labored to please me.But amidst my love for you, there is some...pity._

_Beware of the surface-dwellers my son; nothing good ever comes of intermingling with them._

Namor hit the sentence "For a few days it was almost, tantalizingly, like having a 'normal' child", and threw the book across the room. 

He threw it so hard that he ended up knocking a hole in the wall.

Two surface-dweller servants looked at him, then exchanged glances with each other. 

Namor sighed and went to pick up the book and put it neatly on a shelf.

It would not do to look insane.

—

"How are you?" Steve asked.

Namor shrugged. 

"Looks like a nice place."Steve looked around.It was actually very nice, at least the portion above water.Steve had paid good money for vacations at places that weren't half this swanky.

Namor made a "Tch" noise. 

"Food okay?" Steve asked.

Namor nodded."Sometimes...when I am swimming in the lagoon, sometimes I hunt my own fish."

"They don't have people to do that for you?"

"They do."Namor shrugged."I get bored."

"Yeah, I expect this kind of quiet takes some time to get used to," said Steve."I know that I went from the war straight to the Avengers, and it took me a while to get used to not being in constant danger.I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Namor didn't respond.

"I mean I think everyone has to have some adjustments.And after everything that happened, it's understandable to need some help."

Namor didn't respond.

Steve drew a deep breath."Jim told me that what happened to your mind...you've been seeing Tommy Machan?"

Namor looked down, and began picking at his thumbnail.

"You know what happened to him was not your fault, right?You were nearly dead from dehydration when I found you."Steve could still remember, with unpleasant vividness, how Namor had looked that day.It had been an excruciatingly long minute of pouring water into Namor's mouth, and praying silently, before Namor had opened his eyes. "If it had been possible to save him, you would have.There wasn’t anything else you could do.”

“That is irrelevant, Captain."

"What?"

Namor looked up."Blame does not matter.He died, and I couldn't save him.Whether I was at fault or not changes nothing.”

"So you're _not_ still torturing yourself with guilt more than seventy years later, then?"

"They _pay_ a woman to discuss my feelings with me, Captain," said Namor.

That was the second "Captain".From Namor, that was the equivalent of a dog baring its teeth.It meant he wasn't _quite_ ready to bite yet, but you were being warned.

Steve nodded."So, you swim in the lagoon?"

"Every day.And they are rigorously monitoring my blood oxygen levels to ensure I do not suffer an imbalance.I suspect, Captain, that was going to be your next question.”

That was "Captain" three times in one conversation.It was time for Steve to wrap this up before Namor lost his temper. "Okay, good.I just wanted to make sure you were getting help."

"I am getting plenty of _help_."

Steve leaned forward."Namor, what's wrong?You're angry about something."

Namor opened his mouth, then closed it and sighed."It does not matter."His shoulders slumped."It is beyond my power to change.These days, many things are."

Steve nearly argued, but he remembered the last time he'd argued Namor out of a pessimistic state.

_My body and my mind are failing me!I simply must accept that, or go insane!_

_I've fought beside you and against you for years!I've seen you arrogant, enraged, destructive, but I've never seen you "accept" anything!_

Steve hadn’t fully understood what had been haunting Namor back then.It had felt like an emergency, so he hadn’t taken the _time_ to fully understand.He’d helped put Namor back on the throne of Atlantis, with all his resentment and rage, and everything that was wrong with his mind, because he thought it was better than letting Attuma rule Atlantis.And he’d _thought_ it was better than leaving Namor in a passive and defeated state.

This time, though, Namora held the throne.And Namor...whatever his problem was, Steve was going to let the doctors work through that.

—

“It sounds like you were pressured to be strong to please your grandfather,” Francesca said.

“No.”Namor shook his head.“You’ve got it wrong.”He wasn’t _pressured_ to be strong, he _gloried_ in it!His strength had _saved_ him!If he hadn’t been strong as a child, then he would have died on the surface, being torn apart by feral dogs!His _mother_ would have died without his strength!So many would have died if Namor had not been strong.

 _Tommy_ died because Namor had not been able to be strong.

“You said that he didn’t show you approval until he decided you were useful in his war agains the surface world.”

“Yes,” Namor conceded.“But that was not until I was seventeen.”He’d learned long before that the value of being stronger, more capable, and less vulnerable than others.

“It must have been difficult being denied his approval for that long.”

“Why do you wish to discuss my grandfather so much?I killed him.Surely that resolved the issue.”

“You killed him?” Francesca looked shocked.

“He was a vampire.He came back to threaten Atlantis, and to taunt and torment me.” _My iron hand.My discipline.I always demanded perfection from those around me.Don’t you see? Without Thakorr, there is no Namor.I_ ** _made_** _you._ “He called me weak and unworthy.I killed him and used his blood in a spell to save Atlantis from his vampire army.So you see, I was victorious in the end.”He smiled.

“I imagine that brought up a number of complex emotions,” said Francesca.“It sounds like a traumatic experience in its own right, and I could see you having mixed feelings about causing your grandfather’s death.”

“Mixed feelings?” Namor frowned.

“I could see feeling troubled, even guilty over causing the death of a family member, no matter how they treated you.”

Was Namor _supposed_ to feel guilty?Over _Thakorr_?He’d been cruel even _before_ he returned as a vampire.He’d thrown Namor’s _mother_ in prison!He'd given Namor ten years of exile for the crime of being _born_!And then he’d come back at the head of an undead army, ready to _slaughter_ Namor’s people!Why was Namor supposed to feel anything but _triumphant_ over Thakorr’s death?

“It sounds like a difficult experience,” said Francesca.“Do you want to talk about how it felt?”

Namor couldn’t imagine anything he wanted to do _less_ than explain how he felt to this woman and endure more of her baffling assumptions.

He folded his arms, and sat in silence for the rest of the session.

"Machan?" Namor asked.

Machan opened his eyes, suppressing a smiled.It had been some time since Namor had attempted to speak to him.However, unlike the rest of Namor's mind, Machan was very good at waiting patiently."Yes, my king?"

"I...need someone to talk to," said Namor."It seems that the only thing I do all day is talk to people.And yet...I think I need you."

Machan no longer bothered to suppress the smile."It is lonely, being the object of pity, is it not?"

"True," said Namor."Old friends are all but lining up to see me, and I cannot speak comfortably with any of them.They are all measuring me, and looking with alarm for the ways I could be found defective and fragile.Except that woman...she seems to savor them.She picks at my weakness like a spider-crab picking at a corpse."

"Surface-world psychiatrists.They search for your weaknesses and use them to gain power over you."

"I recall what Xavier did," Namor said.He paused. "Machan, you do understand why I needed to have you restrained, correct?"

"I do," said Machan."I was too...passionate and enthusiastic in my advocacy for the plan, and I did not consider how my excesses would prove troublesome to you."

"And you are far too eager to kill people.The purpose of the plan is to save as many people as possible with a minimum of bloodshed.We do not kill unless there is no better choice."

"Understood, my king."

"And you are too presumptuous.You should not issue orders without my express permission, or take action that I have not commanded you to take."

"I will not, my king," Machan said.Not for the next several months, at least.He needed to help Namor get free, regain his own responsibilities, and rebuild his trust, before he could start to go beyond Namor's orders and do what needed to be done."My apologies.I see that my presumptions and demands have created further troubles for you."

"Thank you," said Namor.There was another pause, then Namor asked, "Do you have a new plan?Any idea of how we can move forwards and salvage some hope for the world?

Here was Machan's triumph, if he was patient and could learn not to be over-eager."I regret that I do not, my king.But I will think on it.”

—

“How are you, my cousin?” Namora asked.

“Better,” said Namor. He smiled.“It was difficult at first.I did not find it easy to…accept…all of this.”

“Are they treating you well?” Namora asked. “I told them to provide you with every comfort.”

“Trust me, cousin, _comfort_ is one area where I have not been deprived.”There was a bitterness in his voice.Then he paused and took a breath.“I am learning to manage my emotions.It is a hard thing to be away from my kingdom and my people for this long.”

“If you continue to recover,” said Namora, “we may be able to bring you home soon.”

Namor smiled again.“I am looking forward to that.I’m sure that I will have much to bring back to the kingdom.”


	7. Chapter 7

Emma sighed and let go of the mental energy. “You’re still entangled with Machan,” she said.“In fact, if anything, you seem _more_ entangled.Didn’t you hire someone to get this sorted out for you?”

“Namora did,” said Namor."She found a surface-dweller woman who is paid to resolve this."

“Well, make her do her job!”

“She says she _is_ doing her job.”Namor frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.“I do not know how surface-world psychiatrists are supposed to work.My one experience was, as you can no doubt tell, not exactly typical.”

Emma shook her head.“There is, right now, exactly _one_ person who I’m willing to spend my time and energy talking through the ins and out of his mental health issues with, Namor.And you are _not_ my brother.For you, I provided every service that your cousin has been willing to pay for, but I am _not_ teaching you how to do therapy.And I have a fair amount of time to spend on this, but I can’t be available foreverSo do put in a little effort, darling.”

“I don’t know what more you want from me,” said Namor. “I am with that woman nearly every day!”

“Have you talked to her about this?” Emma asked.“Machan, whatever the memory behind him is?”

Namor shook his head.“She seems endlessly fascinated by my childhood.”

“Well, tell her what _you_ want to talk about.Explain this.Make her resolve this issue, so I can finish the task and move on.I have plans of my own.I can’t spend forever on _your_ problems.”

—

“There is nothing to worry about,” Machan said. 

Namor was sitting on the beach in his memory, his head in his hands.He looked up.“She will ask.”

“The therapist?”

“Emma.She will ask.If I don’t speak to the therapist about you…about Tommy, she is going to ask why not.She may tell others.”The therapist was, as she had explained in detail, bound by confidentiality regulations.Emma Frost, however, had no such restrictions.

“I see.”Machan paused.“I think you should talk to the therapist about what happened that day.”

Namor gave Machan a sharp look.

“If you allow me, my king, I will remain available.”Machan bowed his head. “But it may not be necessary.This woman lacks insight and is prone to misinterpreting you.If you tell her about that day during the war, but do not lead her by the hand to the topic of my presence, I doubt she will be wise enough to connect the events herself.”

Namor frowned.It seemed like an unnecessary risk.

Machan looked sympathetically at Namor.“If she is any good, discussing this with her might bring you some relief.I want that for you.You carry far too much strain for any one man.”

“You think she will help?’

“No, but I think it is worthwhile to try, and see if she can be of use.She is not Xavier, and is therefore not powerful enough to do any harm.And,” said Machan, “if she does not help you, I am always here.”

—

“And then they shot him,” said Namor.“They killed him in front of me, and I didn’t protect him.I couldn’t protect him.I was not fast enough.”

Francesca nodded.“It sounds like you blame yourself for his death.”

"At times."Namor braced himself for whatever misaimed insight this woman was going to give him.

He had days when he blamed himself.There were days when he went over what happened in his mind and saw a way he could have been faster, or more efficient, or made more use of his intelligence and less use of his instinct, and saved Tommy's life.

But Machan had been of great help on that front.He'd gone over every replay of Tommy's death, examined every scenario that Namor had imagined, and pointed out how they relied on more knowledge than Namor had possessed, or more strength than Namor had been able to summon.He'd reminded Namor, again and again, that he had not failed Tommy through a lack of effort or a lack of will, but through a sheer lack of strength

Therefore, in order to prevent it from happening again, it was important to become stronger.It was important to become strong enough to save everyone.

And Machan would help Namor achieve this.

“It sounds like you couldn’t have done anything more," said Francesca."You said it yourself, you were physically exhausted and dehydrated, too weak to fly over to him in time.You pushed yourself to the limit, but you _do_ have limits.You have weaknesses, just like everyone else.”

 _That_ was her idea of help?To tell Namor how weak he’d been, how limited, how he was incapable of being strong when it was most needed?He _knew_ those things.Those things _haunted_ him.How would she prevent it from happening again?

“You need to recognize your limits, and not put pressure on yourself to go beyond them. It doesn’t help anyone.”

It would have helped _Tommy_ if Namor had been able to push himself more.Randall Peterson was still alive to this day.If Namor had been stronger, Tommy might still be here as well.

Francesca reached out and put a hand on Namor’s.“It’s okay to have weaknesses.They’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

Namor jerked his hand away.The presumption of this woman!

“I’m sorry,” she said.“Is touch a trigger?”

“I do not understand how you are using the word.”

“Do you have past traumas evoked by that sort of touch?”

Namor shook his head.He considered trying to explain about royal etiquette, and how one did not touch a king without permission, but he gave up.

Every time he attempted to explain himself to this woman, she twisted it into some strange, maddening, insulting distortion of what he’d said.

“I know this has been challenging,” she said. “I want to remind you that this is a safe space, and you are protected here.It’s safe to be vulnerable.”

Another slap in the face. Protected.Like he, Namor the First, the Avenging Son of Atlantis, needed to be _protected_ by some surface-dwelling fool who had never so much as lifted a spear.

But he was not Namor the First, the Avenging Son of Atlantis anymore. 

He was, in the eyes of Atlantis and the eyes of world, Namor the Mad.

He had lived for nearly one hundred years.He had done great and terrible things.He had risked everything, including his very mind, to save his people and the world from the self-destructive folly of the surface-dwellers. 

And he had failed.Now he was without his throne, and Namora looked at him with pity and assigned this woman to coax him through his feelings.

“Do not lose hope,” Machan whispered in his ear.“If we can get back to Atlantis, we may be able to salvage something in the end.”

—

Emma sighed.“You’re really not making any progress at all?”

“The therapist believes we are.”He was, Emma could see, telling the truth.She didn't know if he would be foolish enough to invite her into his mind and attempt to lie to her face, but that clearly was not happening now.

She didn't think he'd have the strength to lie.Physically, out in the real world, he looked as fit and magnificently muscular as ever.But inside his mind, he looked ill.His face was drawn, and there was an unhealthy pallor.

And he had a worrying fuzziness around the edges.It was subtle, and a psychic would have to be both as powerful as Emma and as keenly perceptive to see it at all.But Namor had always, inside his head, been in razor-sharp focus and forcefully real. Now there was a hint of blurring, as if he was less resolutely himself.

It was as if he was very slowly starting to dissolve.

“Not from where I’m sitting,” said Emma.“If you and Machan were any more entangled, you’d be indistinguishable.Whatever she’s doing, she’s making the problem worse.You did discuss the memory behind this with your therapist?”

Namor nodded.Again, he was not lying.

“Then fire her,” said Emma.“Get someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“No,” said Namor and Machan at the same time.

Emma frowned.“I can see why the monument to Xavier's ineptitude would want you to stick with the hack, but Namor, why do _you_ want her?You’ve never been the slightest bit shy about getting rid of incompetents.”

Namor sighed.“I…do not want to start over.This process requires me to explain myself, over and over, and I feel it would be more work to begin again.”

“Oh Namor.”Emma tilted her head.“Suck it up.

Namor blinked.

“Of _course_ it’s going to be more work.You’ve wasted all that time with some woman who clearly has no concept of how to work with you, and now you’re going to have to start the whole thing over from scratch.It’s going to be _excruciatingly_ difficult, far worse than if you'd managed to do it properly in the first place.But since when have you ever shirked from a challenge?”

“I will think on it,” said Namor.“And I will discuss it.As I am not the one who employed that woman, this is not entirely my choice.”The anger dripped off the last sentence, and for a moment, he seem to sharpen up and come back to himself.

“Do you want me to put in a word with Namora?If she needs an outside opinion, I’ll be happy to concur.”Emma would concur loudly in great detail.

“Thank you,” said Namor.“But I would rather speak to her directly.”

“Please do,” said Emma.She took Namor’s hand.“I don’t like to be dramatic, but this is getting worse.And I vastly prefer your personality to...that.”She gestured dismissively towards Machan.“Don’t take this as encouragement to return to your usual overenthusiastic flirtation, but I _do_ care for you.You are, among other things, a valued friend.And that thing in your head will, if you don't stop it, eat you alive from the inside out.I would hate to see that happen to you."

Namor nodded."You have given me much to think about."

"Is she going to tell Namora?" Machan asked."Find out if she's going to report back directly."

Namor turned to Emma."Are you - "

"I heard," Emma said.She sighed, and considered her phrasing."I am _trying_ to respect your privacy.However, as I said, I _do_ value you, and out of respect for you, I am going to put Atlantis first.If that thing doesn't want me to tell Namora how poorly this is going, then I'm afraid it's necessary."

"No!" yelled Machan.

"No!" yelled Namor."I mean, there is no need.I will speak to her."

"I'm sure you will,"Emma nodded.She tried to keep her face even.Emma did not consider herself easily rattled, and she'd seen more than a few people she cared about with nasty entities in their minds.

But thing, this Machan, it unsettled her.It was slowly eating away at Namor, and manipulating him, almost seducing him into believing he needed it.

Namor had always shied away from dependence.He prided himself on his strength.And now this old mistake of Xavier's was making him dependent and weak.

It was painful to watch.

"You're going to let her do this?" Machan asked."Just let her leave and tell Namora, and ruin any hope of reclaiming the throne?Any hope of saving the plan?Stop her!"

There was a flash of something worrying in Namor's eyes.Emma braced herself.She could, if it came to a psychic fight, give Namor a sound thrashing.But she'd rather not risk subjecting Namor, or what was left of him, to any further harm.

Instead, she turned to Namor."You gave me permission to enter your mind.I entered by consent and I was promised safe conduct.Have now been so weakened that you can be made to harm a lady and an invited guest at your...friend's behest?"

Namor stopped."No, of course not.My advisor overstepped his bounds.You are free to leave, and I will discuss matters with Namora myself."

Emma let out a sigh, and withdrew from Namor's mind.

She'd been hoping she could extract Machan without causing Namor any permanent damage.But she was increasingly concerned that might _not_ be the worst possible outcome.

Whatever happened, she could _not_ let that thing hollow out Namor and walk around in his skin.

—

"My cousin," said Namora, her face a mask of sorrow."I have heard disturbing news."

Namor attempted to remain calm as he faced the screen."Miss Frost spoke to you?I know she expressed some concerns."

"You told me you were getting better."

Namor nodded."Miss Frost found me on a...difficult day.Dr. Biagi says it is...part of the process, and I should anticipate ups and downs."

"You lied!"

"The therapist said this was going well!That was the truth!"He had not lied about that.He did not like to lie and avoided it when it was not absolutely necessary. As a consequence, he'd leaned heavily on the therapist's words.Dr. Francesca Biagi seemed endlessly convinced she was helping, and that was convenient for Namor." _She_ is the expert on surface-dweller psychiatry, not me!"

"Your madness is devouring you!"

"It is not madness!" Namor leaned urgently at the screen.

"Don't," Machan warned.

"Wait," said Namor. "Wait.She will understand."He stared at Namora. "You know what I have seen, the projections, the willful blindness of the surface-dwellers to what they're doing to the world!You've seen the heating oceans, the dying corals, and the dead zones devoid of oxygen!My plan will stop that!It is ugly, true, but it is the only way!"

"Your plan is more madness, cousin!"

"It is a good plan!"

"Your plan would have killed seven billion people!"

Namor froze.

Namora sighed. "I was advised to wait until your madness was healed before giving you any additional upsetting news.But the tests on the Genus Formula are complete.It kills the people it is used on.Slowly but surely, they die.Everyone transformed will be dead within a year.Many will die in a matter of months."

"No."Namor struggled to find his voice.He swallowed."It cannot be!"

"It's not true!" Machan yelled."She's lying!"

"It is.I can send you the science.It is unequivocal.Your madness would have killed the world, my beloved cousin, as surely as it is killing you."Her face was a mask of grief."I must go, Namor.May Father Neptune grant you mercy and restore you to yourself."

The screen went black.

"She's lying!It's a lie!She is trying to steal your throne!"

Namor turned slowly to Machan."How do you know?'

"I know!Of course I know!It is the plan!You were there!"

"I was there for parts of it," said Namor."You took charge of the research.You presented me with the plan when it was already begun! _You_ recruited the volunteers.How many did you lose?"

"I...not many."

"How many?" Namor asked again.

Machan looked down."Perhaps twenty before the formula was perfected.And it _was_ perfected."

"Twenty?You killed twenty of my people without telling me?"Namor had killed _twenty_ of his own people in a fit of insanity, and been too mad to realize?

"They volunteered! They sacrificed themselves for Atlantis!"

"They sacrificed themselves out of loyalty to the king!" Namor shouted."They sacrificed themselves because they trusted me!They trusted a mad, broken man, and I threw away the lives of my people for nothing!Worse than that, for a plan that would have created unspeakable horrors!Did you _know_ the plan would have killed the surface-dwellers?Were you, too, blinded my my madness?Or did you know?"

"I...I did not think it would kill them," said Machan."I thought I had corrected the problem.And what does it matter?The surface-dwellers are poisoning the ocean and destroying their own world! Why not poison them in revenge?"

Namor's rage intensified so much that it went cold."You are an insult to the memory of Tommy Machan.You have no right to wear his face.I will have Emma Frost tear you from my mind if it _kills_ me.Until she does, I will not look upon you or hear your voice again."He slammed the door on the coffin lid shut, and placed every barrier and containment he could find around Machan's coffin, until Namor could see neither sight not sound of Machan.

The rage brought him relief and energy, as rage commonly did.It was not until after that the despair hit.

He, Namor, had truly gone mad.This wasn't a temporary illness, or a fit of uncontrollable rage.He had sent twenty of his own people to his death, and nearly killed an entire species on the word of a voice in his head.

It was one thing to commit necessary horrors.Namor could, when he needed to, bear the weight of necessary horrors on his soul.

But he had thrown away the lives of some of the best and bravest of his people, and nearly wiped out all of humanity for a delusion.

For nothing.

He was broken.And, considering the poor results of working with surface-dweller psychiatrists, he was likely broken beyond repair.

Namor sat on the surface-dweller furniture.He tried to think of reasons to hope, of ways to take charge of his own fate.He tried to think of a plan that would offer him more than life as a pitiful madman, kept shut away so he would do no harm.

But without Machan, no plan came to mind.


	8. Chapter 8

You seem quiet today," said Francesca. 

Namor did not reply.

"You don't seem very motivated to engage in therapy."

"I am not," Namor said. 

"Do you want to talk about why?"

"What is the point?You misunderstand _everything_ I say."

"I do?I thought were communicating well.

Namor gave a puzzled frown."You honestly _believed_ that?"He shook his head."You hear everything wrong, and twist every word that you pry out of my mouth."

"And how does that make you feel?

"Angry," Namor replied."Although I know that is not the answer you want."

She looked at him. "You have permission to feel angry, you know."

 _Permission?_ She thought _she_ could grant _Namor_ permission?Who did that woman think she _was?_ "You told me anger was a secondary emotion.You told me that it was important to find a different emotion behind the anger."

"I said anger _can_ be a secondary emotion.And it can be important to understand _if_ there's a different emotion behind that.I never told you that anger was _always_ secondary, or that you weren't _supposed_ to feel anger."

"You did!" Namor snapped. 

"I am sure I did not.Perhaps you misremembered."

"You did say that!" Namor nearly brought his fists down on the table between them, but stopped himself.

How certain _was_ he that she'd said that?His memory was far from reliable. 

If he couldn't trust his own mind, what could he trust?"

He dropped his hands and let out a sigh."I don't know."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know.I don't know what I remember.I don't know what happened."

Francesca nodded, and leaned in, with a sympathetic expression."It's challenging, isn't it, admitting weakness?"

Namor nodded

"How do you feel?"

"I feel..." _empty.Hollow.Like living death.Bereft of hope.Defeated more utterly than I have ever been."_ Bad," he said."I feel bad."

"Could you be more specific?

Namor shrugged and tried to remember the list of feeling words she’d given him.It had little cartoon faces and seems designed for a small child."Sad?"

"Do you think you feel ashamed?"

For misremembering a few words?No, Namor had much better things to feel shame for than something that.

His people had trusted him.Atlanteans had sacrificed their lives because they had faith in Namor and his plan.

Faith in Namor and his madness.

He had failed them beyond repair.

_We are all here.Every monarch ever to sit astride the throne. All here in Hell.We ruled with iron fists and tender hearts.We served the people of Atlantis all our days._

_And inevitably, we let them down._

He shrugged.

"It's difficult, facing your weaknesses, isn't it?"

Namor gave a defeated nod."Yes.

"It sounds like in Atlantis, there's a lot of pressure to not show weakness.

That was true, or at least often true.He had powerful enemies looking to claim the throne.If he seemed weak, they would take advantage.

Not that he had to worry about that anymore.He had lost.He had broken beyond repair.

"I want to make a space where you can get away from that.Where you can explore your feelings and be vulnerable.In here," said Francesca, smiling, "you don't need to be strong."

Namor's strength was no longer a glory, but a danger.A weak madman was to be pitied, but a powerful madman was a menace to all.

He sighed and dropped his head into his hands

"I'm glad you're more comfortable being vulnerable," said Francesca."I think this is real progress."

—

Emma frowned thoughtfully at the entanglement connecting Namor and black coffin that held Machan.It seemed to be weaker, and less intense.She still didn't think she could safely remove it, but at least there was finally progress.

"Don't tell me you got that therapist to actually be of some use?"She looked over at Namor.

He was staring at the coffin."Can you kill him?"

"Him?"

"Machan.Can you destroy him?As you said, shut the whole thing down?"

"Not safely," she said."At least not yet."

"So you _can_ destroy him," said Namor.His face was impassive. 

The strange thing was, he still looked faded.Here, in Namor's head, he still looked diminished, like he was losing himself.If anything, Emma thought he looked even worse than before.

If he wasn't being drained by Machan, what was draining him?

"Do it,"said Namor."Shut him down."

"At this point, it would cause serious permanent damage.You would _probably_ live, but you'd carry the mental damage forever.You would never recover enough to reclaim the throne."

"How is that different from the way things are now?"

Emma sighed."Self-pity is _not_ a good color on you."

Namor looked up at her.

"I understand this must be hideously frustrating for you," said Emma."Your current situation is profoundly unsuited to your temperament.However, recklessly heroic self-sacrifice is for when you've exhausted all other options, not something to do because you're _bored_.I am _not_ going to cause you irreparable damage when there is a hope of getting you out of this healthy and whole.For one thing, I'm fairly sure Namora would have my head."

Namor didn't react.

"Do be patient, darling.Provided you keep up the good work, an extremely capable telepath should be able to get you out of this mess in one piece.And," said Emma, forcing herself to smile, "you are very lucky on that front, as the telepath you’re relying on is me.”

—

Namor wasn't sure how the note made it on to his bed.SHIELD was vigorously monitoring everything around him, and presumably would not have agreed to pass it along to him.

Not considering who it was from.

Had it been some clever little drone?Had one of the staff been deceived into carrying it?Had one been turned?Was there a crack in the security apparatus that could be exploited?

No.Namor was not going to think like that.He was not going to subject the world to his madness again.The next time, there might not be anyone to stop him.

He looked at the note.

_To my finest ally and my worthiest foe,_

_I know we parted on difficult terms, but I would not see you remain diminished like this. There is something in you, something fierce and honorable that calls for a better fate.If you wish to be free of this place, place a book with a red cover on the end table nearest to your bedroom window.I will come for you.And I will bring all of my power to restoring you, first to your mind and then to your throne.You will be be your full self again, or we will both die in the attempt._

_Yours,_

_One who was with you in the depths of Hell_

Namor crumpled up the note and moved to throw it away. He stopped.

He was not going to take Victor up on his offer.Namor could still recall Victor's agenda from his last visit.And Namor would rather stagnate in this place until he died than betray Atlantis like that. 

Worse yet, he was not sure if Machan would stay put if offered the opportunity to work with Doom.Would Victor know the difference between Machan and Namor?Would he care?Namor hoped the answer was yes, but he would not risk the fate of the world on it.

But there was something heartening about the note.

He flattened it, folded it up neatly, and put it in a small box of personal keepsakes, between a portrait of Dorma and one of his mother.

—

"Namor, my cousin, how are you?"

"Fine." He sat by the cove with unsettling stillness.

Normally, when Namor was still, there was an aura of restraint, a sense of great power under great control.

Today, where was nothing. 

"Does the surface-dweller psychiatrist help?"

Namor shrugged.

"Atlantis is well at the moment.All is stable."Namora was not sure how long that would last without Namor.A significant portion of Atlanteans were content with a ruling queen, but there was the old guard.And Attuma was always difficult to manage.Eventually, if Namor didn't come back, Namora would have to fight him.She was hoping she could goad him into a direct challenge, one-on-one, rather than a war.

"Good," said Namor.He did not ask her to elaborate.He did not meet her eyes.

"Are the surface-dwellers treating you well?"

"They are," Namor said.

Namora frowned."Take care, my cousin."

"And you," Namor replied.

 _I will not cry,_ Namora thought. _A regent of Atlantis and a princess of the blood does not cry unless she so chooses, and I will not let myself cry._

Namor was broken.He was not showing his former madness, but he was not becoming well.

The surface-dweller medicine had not healed him.

Perhaps nothing would.


	9. Chapter 9

Jim brought movies.He wasn't sure what else to bring.

"Good luck," said the security chief.He was S.H.I.E.L.D., and Jim was pretty sure they'd worked together before.What was his name?Right, KalonjiPaul Kalonji.Cool head in a crisis, and not in a hurry to pull the trigger.Those were qualities Jim admired in a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent."He's not exactly in a friendly mood."

Jim smiled."I've known him for more than eighty years.I'm used to him not being a friendly mood."

"He's gone quiet," said Paul."He hasn't spoken to anyone for three days.Maybe the new therapist?He still meets with them as scheduled."

Jim frowned.They'd hoped switching up therapists would help, but after this Francesca woman, they'd been through five or six different therapists, and Namor wasn't improving.He would show up to the scheduled sessions, the therapists would go through the increasingly difficult process of explaining doctor-patient confidentiality to an increasingly distressed Namora, and after a few sessions they would quit.

And now there was the silence.

Namor had been in plenty of nasty moods, but he was rarely silent for longHe might do short bursts of sullen silences, but normally, when Namor was unhappy, he put it into words.Repeatedly, at considerable volume, sometimes with startling eloquence, sometimes as petty and crude as the profanities Jim used to hear from the drunk tank back when he'd been on the police force in 1939. "I don't know how much of a difference I'll be able to make, but I figured he could use a friend."

Paul nodded."It couldn't hurt."

—

"Hey," said Jim."I heard you've been having a rough time."

Namor was sitting by the window, staring at the sea.He looked up at him silently. 

"I hear you're not feeling talkative.That's okay."He held up the DVDs."Apparently these are already old-fashioned.Most people stream instead.Technology moves quickly these days.Back in the old days, the most advanced technology was, well, me."He grinned.

Namor didn't smile back.He didn't make a sarcastic comment.He didn't go off about the superiority of Atlantean technology.He just looked at Jim.

"Well, do you want to watch some movies?"Jim walked over to the sofa. 

Namor stood and walked to the sofa.He sat down on the far end.

"A shame we don't have popcorn and candy," said Jim."Any preference for the first movie?"

Namor shrugged not even looking at the DVDs.

"Okay, then," said Jim."I'll pick."

Jim picked _Kubo of the Two Strings_ and sat down.

—

Ten minutes into the movie, Jim wondered if he'd made a mistake.

He'd picked the movie because of the beautiful animation.Plus, it was a good adventure story, and Jim liked the voice acting.

He'd forgotten to think about the plot.

The movie had a boy, alone with his mother.His father had been separated from his mother, because her father didn't approve of who she'd had a child with.The boy's grandfather was cruel and powerful.

Jim glanced over at Namor, but he wasn't reacting.He sat impassive, watching the movie.

No, not impassive.Blank. 

Namora had mentioned it, but at the time, Jim had thought she was interpreting too much into things.Namor sometimes gave the silent treatment, and would unsettle people with flat expressions or quiet glares. 

Namora hadn't been imagining things.This was different. 

"I love the animation," said Jim."It's stop-motion.These days so much is CGI.Which, okay, good CGI animation can have its moments, but it's easy to cheap out.This company did a few other films, such as _Coraline_ , and they've really put effort into it."

Namor turned his head to watch when Jim spoke, then turned back to the screen.

"Another movie?"Jim dug through the stack.He'd mostly avoided movies about war (with one exception), and he didn't think anything else would raise issues.

Jim picked _Moonlight_.He'd seen it in theaters, and he'd been stunned. 

He didn't know what Namor would make of it.At this point, Jim was just hoping he'd react at all.

—

Namor's expression softened as the film went on.He leaned forward, hands on his knees, clearly caught up in the film.

Namor let out a soft gasp at the ending, when Kevin and Chiron hugged.

"Wasn't that good?" Jim asked.

Namor nodded.He opened his mouth, then paused, and closed it again.

Jim looked at the time."I think we should get lunch.

—

From the meal Namor ate, there was nothing wrong with his appetite.He ate generous portions of grilled mahi-mahi, roast vegetables, and fresh-baked bread.

He didn't speak a word the entire meal.

Jim ate one or two bites of everything.He smiled politely at the server, who was giving him a puzzled look."I'm not human.I don't need food to fuel my body, and there's only so much I can comfortably eat.But I wanted to get a taste of everything, because it all looked so good.I'm glad I did, because this is wonderful! My compliments to the chef."

The server nodded and smiled.

Namor looked up."He likes pie." 

The server nodded.

"So, you're talking again?" Jim asked.

Namor looked at Jim, took a bite of grilled fish, and didn't answer.

—

Jim hesitated before choosing the next movie. _Birdy_ wasn't exactly a war movie, but it was _about_ war.The main characters were a traumatized veteran who'd been put in a mental hospital after he'd stopped speaking and began behaving strangely, and his friend and fellow veteran who'd come to try to help him back to sanity.

That could set off a big reaction.

But Namor was pulling something.He genuinely wasn't _well_ , but the silent treatment was something he was doing on purpose.

Stirring him up and getting him to react might be exactly what was needed.

"You're gonna jump?"

"No Al, I'm gonna fly."

Namor leaned in at those lines.

The next scene, Birdy was sitting on the floor of the hospital, silent, tilting his head strangely.

Namor stiffened.

When the doctor said "All I know is that he hasn't talked since he was found", Namor shot Jim a look.

Jim looked back innocently.

Namor turned back to the movie with an angry glare.

"How come every time I tried to save your ass, I ended up getting sick?You thought that was funny, huh?Who are you supposed to be, the Mona Lisa or what?That is a smile isn't it?

"I am not like that."

Jim turned to Namor."What?"

"That.Him.The mad boy in the film.I am not like that."

"Obviously," said Jim."For one thing, you're a lot better at flying."

Namor let out an annoyed snort."Birdy, the mad boy, he is...helpless.His madness has rendered him incapacitated.He needs to be spoon-fed like a child.I am not like him, and you do not need to come coax me into wellness like in the film."

"Is that so?Then what was the silent treatment earlier about?"

Namor sighed."I am...tired. And I did not have anything to say."

"I see," said Jim.

Namor turned back to the film.Apparently he'd run out of things to say again.

—

"Because I work here.He's part of my job.”

"Yeah?Well, he's part of my goddamn life!"In the movie, Al walked out of the room to cry

Jim glanced over at Namor.

He was giving Jim a thoughtful look.

Jim met Namor's eyes.

"Jim?" Namor asked."Have you been worrying?"

"About what?"

"About me."

"Of course," said Jim."How could I not?

Namor frowned and make a "Tch" sound, then turned back to the screen

"This isn't a game anymore, Birdy!Why wouldn't you talk?"

"I didn't have anything to say to him."

Jim stifled the urge to laugh.

He caught Namor's offended look, and the laughter bubbled up in his throat.

Namor let out an irritated snort.

"Didn't have anything to say?" Jim asked.

Namor glared.

"Yes, completely dissimilar,” said Jim.

"Shove it, Firebug."

—

Namor leaned in as, in the film, Birdy stood, arms out, prepared to leap from the roof.

When Birdy stood on the roof of the lower building, looking back, going "What?", Namor let out a sigh and leaned back.

"A good movie, isn't it?" Jim asked.

Namor nodded. 

"Excuse me," said the server from before.He held two plates with slices of fresh cherry pie.

Jim took one."Thank you." 

Namor took the other wordlessly.

The server walked out.

"You didn't have anything to say to him?" Jim asked, grinning.

Namor looked annoyed."There is a difference between madness and not caring to waste words.I should know," he said."I am familiar with both."

It was one of the best pies Jim had ever tasted, but he suddenly found it hard to swallow. 

Namor was rapidly devouring his pie."Another movie, I think.Perhaps something lighter this time?

—

It turned out _Finding_ _Nemo_ made Namor laugh until tears ran down his face.

"That was fun," he said."Although it was wildly unrealistic about clownfish families."

Jim nodded."I'd heard that.I'm glad I came, Water Rat."

"Me too, Firebug."

"You know," said Jim."I don't actually need to go home.This place looks big enough that I should be able to find somewhere to spend the night."

Namor stiffened.The smile dropped from his face."I don't think that would be wise."

"Okay," said Jim."Tomorrow?"

"No."

"Next week?"

" _No_."

Jim frowned."What's wrong?You were having fun!"

“You’ve been _worried_ about me", said Namor, in a strangely venomous tone.

"Well, yes.A lot of people are worried about you.” Didn’t Namor know how many people cared about him?Didn’t he know how much _Jim_ cared?He must.

"I think you should not come here again."

"What's gotten into you?" Jim asked.Was Namor okay?Was this Machan again? 

"I do not want you to come and worry about me and try to help me and continue to concern yourself with me."

"Well tough luck," said Jim."You're my friend!You don't get to tell me not to care."

Namor let out a weary sigh."Jim, I do not want you bound to me.I do not want you bound to this place.I do not want you wasting your worry on my wellness or my mental state.I do not want to give you false hope that if you persist, I might be cured."

"Who says it's false hope?" Jim asked.

"I do," said Namor."I know."

"Plenty of people recover from mental illness."

"Plenty of _surface-dwellers_ recover from mental illness," Namor said."Atlanteans go mad and die."He sighed."And I, being between worlds, am perhaps condemned to linger indefinitely, neither truly sane nor finally dead."

“That’s some morbid nonsense, Namor.”

"Is it?"Namor looked at Jim."How many months has it been?Would you say that this surface-dweller psychiatry has healed my mind?Would you say that I am fit for the throne of Atlantis, and this madness is truly gone?"

"I mean, it takes time."At least Jim assumed it did.He didn't exactly have a human mind himself.

"I can spend centuries here before I die of old age.Is that time enough?”

"You've been doing therapy for six months.That's hardly a lifetime."

"Is that so?" Namor turned."Tell me then, Hammond, how much longer should I go?How much longer until we can all give up?That woman said that the process continues until I get better.What will you do if I'm not better one year from now?Two years?Five?Ten?When will you decide it's time to stop?When do you think the American government will decide it's time to stop keeping the mad king of Atlantis put away safely where he poses no threat?Do you think Namora will choose to see a mad king on the throne of Atlantis?Or to let her cousin die?Do you think _Steve_ _Rogers_ is going to lose hope, abandon his endless faith in surface-dweller medicine, and stop trying to save a friend?No, he will not stop.None of you will ever _stop_.And surface-dwellers cannot heal a mind like mine.I am going to spend the rest of my life here, too insane to live, not mad enough to die."

Jim put a hand on Namor's shoulder."Water Rat..."

Namor shook it off."You should go."

"Okay," said Jim."Okay."It was generally not worth it to argue when Namor got like this.He would dig his heels in even further, because it stopped being about what he was arguing for, and started being about winning.

"Do not come back."

Jim kept silent and began gathering up his DVDs.

"Forget about me," said Namor.

"Never," said Jim.“There are many things I’d do for you, Namor.But never that.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Hey, Subby, what’s up?”Bucky smiled from the windowsill.He could have come in through the front door, but he thought the surprise might perk Namor up.

Namor was staring off into the distance.He did not respond.

“If you’re giving me the silent treatment,” said Bucky, “Jim already told me about that.”Jim has seemed pretty upset about his last visit with Namor.He’d made it clear that Namor could talk, but he wouldn’t get into what they’d talked about.

“Did he send you?” Namor asked.

“No, he doesn’t know I’m here. Namora…officially, she also doesn’t know I’m here, and if anyone asks, she wasn’t involved in this at all and is completely and totally surprised about what’s going to happen.

Namor raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll be honest,” said Bucky.“There’s a mission.It needs deniability, and if I’m going to pull it off, I need good backup.”

"You want to take a _madman_ on an undercover mission?"

"I mean if it's you, yeah.The way I hear it, you haven't been blacking out for a while now, which I figure means that you, mental problems or not, are the one in charge of your own mind." Bucky shrugged"And if I couldn't deal with you being emotionally unstable, neither of us would have survived the war."

"If I recall," said Namor, "You did _not_ survive the war."

Bucky laughed."Yeah, well, we're older and wiser now.Or at least _you're_ older and _I'm_ wiser, which is probably close enough.Now are you coming, or do you have some important sitting-around-and-brooding to do?”

Namor straightened up and looked at Bucky.“Is it a mission for the American government?

“Nope.”

“The Avengers?” 

“Not them either,” said Bucky.He ran his left hand through his hair.“I think Steve would appreciate the results, but it’s one of those better-to-ask-forgiveness-than-permission things.

If Bucky wasn’t mistaken a smile was starting to spread across Namor’s face.“You mentioned that Namora knew about this?”

“No, I believe I said that Namora does _not_ know about it, this is definitely not a request from the government of Atlantis, and if Roxxon has a problem with it, then unfortunately what can they do?The mad king escaped, how unfortunate, they’ll definitely recheck security around him, but no one can be held responsible, Roxxon will have to eat the losses.”

Namor was definitely paying attention now.“Roxxon?”

“Yeah.Namora was tracking some illegal whaling ships back to Roxxon.Some Atlanteans were killed in the fight, and a couple have been captured.We don’t know what they’ve been captured for, but they’ve been taken to a research facility.

Namor’s expression darkened.

“Namora would prefer not to start a war if she can avoid it.She doesn't want a war with the U.S. if she can avoid it, and she's not convinced our government would pick Atlantean lives over American corporate profits.I have to say, I understand why.”He coughed.“Don't tell Steve I said that.So the good option is to send a surface-dweller with black-ops experience, and for support, her cousin who is considered too insane to be any kind official government action.And we see how much of it we can stop, and if we can get enough evidence to get the Avengers into the picture, and embarrass the U.S. government into siding against Roxxon.”

Namor nodded.“Do you know the place?”

“Yeah,” said Bucky.He took a breath.“Look, I’m going to need you to be in control for this part.You don’t seem to be blacking out or flying into a rage, so I’m going to take a chance on this, but I need you to keep a grip.I’m not saying _no_ violence, but I’m saying make damn sure it’s necessary first.”

Namor stood up, and for the first time in months, he looked every inch a king.“Of course.We are there to save my people.For them, I will restrain myself as needed, or die trying.”

“Yeah, try not to do to the whole dying thing,” said Bucky.“If you don’t come back safe, Namora will have my head.”That might have been a joke, but Bucky wouldn’t want to bet his life on it.She’d smiled like a shark when she’d said it.

—

The facility was on a deserted island.

It had no security that Namor noticed.He wondered why Barnes had brought him. Was this a trick?Some human exercise to inflict further psychiatry on him?Namor knew he could trust Barnes not to betray him to an _enemy_ , but could he trust Barnes not to betray him to a _doctor?_

Barnes worked the electronic lock, and then opened the door.“Easy.Too easy.I don’t like it.”

“I do not either,” Namor replied.He kept his voice low.

“I’m going for the computers first,” said Barnes.“I’ve heard some rumors about what Roxxon is up to, and if I can get evidence, we can take action before it goes too far. You go for the labs.If they have test subjects…”

“They do,” said Namor.Barnes wouldn’t be able to hear it from here, but the sound resonated through Namor, vibrating in his bones.An Atlantean.Calling for help.

“Okay.I’ll do a quick grab for the computer info and then come get your back.If you’re going to attract attention, make sure it’s a lot of attention and you keep them distracted.”

“That should not be a problem.”Namor was itching to run to the trapped Atlantean, to save them, to take them to the sea.To protect them, the way a king should.

“I figured,” said Barnes.“Go.”

Namor nodded.He flew along the corridor, his feet off the ground so his footsteps would not alert the enemy. 

The lab was behind a thick steel door.There was an armored keypad, of the sort that Barnes had hacked.

Namor heard another call for help.

He tore the door off its hinges.

“Imperius Rex!”

—

“Come on, come on, come on,” Bucky muttered, as he dumped data onto the flash drive.If the rumors were right, the fate of the world might depend on this information, but he was itching to get back to help Namor. 

People were trapped in a lab, being experimented on.It didn’t sit right to leave them there for even an extra minute.

Sirens were wailing and he could hear people shouting and running towards the lab, so Namor had clearly gotten started. 

Bucky finished the download, and tucked the flash drive into a waterproof pocket.He opened up a service duct and crawled in, heading for the lab.

—

There was a young warrior dead on the slab

There were six Atlanteans, alive and seemingly unharmed, in a large tank of salt water.

And the young warrior on the slab.

She couldn't have been more than twenty.She looked so young. 

They'd cut slices out of her flesh.

Namor ignored the cowering scientists to say a short prayer to Neptune over the soldier's body. 

Then he turned to the scientists.

“You are fortunate that you did not meet me when I was younger.I have, over the years, grown more merciful.So I will give you one opportunity to help me save my people.”

“If we do,” asked a tall man “will you let us go?”

Namor gave him a cold stare.“If you save the lives of my people, I will let you _live_.”

—

When Bucky found the lab, he wasn’t too worried about how to get out.

There was a group of scientists standing near the tank with the Atlantan prisoners.Maybe ten guards had made it to the lab so far.Most of them were standing at the door, looking uncertain.

One was pointing a gun at Namor.

Bucky hopped down from the duct. “What do you think _that’s_ going to do?”

The guard looked from Namor over to Bucky.

“I can tell you,” Bucky said.“It’s going to bounce off him and ricochet.I’ve seen it before.”

The guard’s eyes widened.

“You’ll hurt a human.Maybe kill one.And that’s not what you’re here for.”

The guard’s hand trembled. 

“Come on,” said Bucky“No one expects you to personally fight _Namor_. You're not the Hulk.”

“I am ready to fight,” said Namor.His fists were clenched.

“Projectile weapon in an enclosed space. Too much risk of _unintended_ injury.”Bucky was going to get as many people out of this alive as he could.

Namor nodded. “Fair point.”

The guard stepped back. 

“Smart,” said Bucky.“Walk away.”

“I don’t think so,” said a different guard.She stepped aside as the door pushed open.“We were just waiting for backup."

—

Namor hesitated as he saw the flamethrowers.He’d fought against fire weapons before, but it was fraught and difficult. 

And there were the other Atlanteans.The prisoners.As Barnes had said, projectile weapons were dangerous in tight quarters, and it wouldn’t take much for a stray jet of flame to hit the prisoners. 

Namor would fight, of course, but it would be ugly.

He might die here.

Perhaps that was the best end for the mad king.Better to die fighting than to live moldering away while some surface-dweller picked at his feelings.

Namor straightened up and prepared to defend his people or die trying.

And then someone smashed a hole in the wall.

A cheerful voice spoke.“Oh, are we playing with fire now?”Jim stepped forward.“Can I play?” 

Several of the Roxxon guards turned, aiming their flamethrowers at Jim.

Namor burst out laughing. 

“Hey, Water Rat.”Jim waved. “Nice to see you looking so cheerful.”

One Roxxon guard shouted “Get down on the ground and put your hands behind your head!”

“Or what?” Jim asked.“You’re going to _burn_ me?”He smiled.“Are you going to set me on fire with that little flamethrower of yours?

“Damn straight!”

Jim laughed.“Namor, he’s going to try to _set me on fire_.Whatever shall I do?”

“I think you should beat him to it, Firebug.” 

Jim was clearly feeling theatrical, because he held up his hand and snapped his finger, right as he burst into flames.

Two of the Roxxon guards dropped their flamethrowers and ran. 

The one in front of Jim still held the flamethrower, but his hands were shaking.“What…” He turned around, attempting to aim the flamethrower at everyone at once.“Who _are_ you?”

“We’re the Invaders, son.”Steve Rogers stepped through the hole, in full Captain America uniform.

Barnes grinned.“If you’re a good little boy, and put the weapon down right now, you can get out of this alive.”

—

As the last of the Atlantean prisoners was taken via the rolling tank to the sea, Namor followed.

He carried the body of the young warrior who had died.

Jim had offered to carry her, but Namor had declined.

He knew his responsibilities.

He walked slowly into the ocean, her body cradled in his arms.When the water grew deeper, he began to swim, kicking gently with his feet, still holding her in his arms.

The rescued warriors hovered in the water.They looked shaken, but Namor could see they were already regaining some strength.

“Take her to her family,” said Namor.“Tell the Princess Regent that she should be buried with full honors.”

One of the Atlanteans stepped forward and took her.“Thank you, Your Majesty.’He looked down.“May I ask one more kindness?”

Namor nodded.“You may.”

“May Kora have the royal blessing to carry her into the arms of Neptune?”

Namor almost agreed, then paused.“The Princess Regent…”

“Is not the king,” the young man said.“No disrespect, your Majesty.The Princess Regent has done fine work while you were…away, but she is not the ruler of Atlantis.It would be of some comfort to know that the true monarch has blessed Kora.It would mean a great deal to her family.”

Namor nodded.He placed his hands on the young woman’s hands, her gills, and finally her eyes, and recited the blessing.

Then young man looked up at Namor, close to tears.“Thank you, my king."

—

Namor looked different when he walked out of the water, Jim thought.He stood up straighter, and there was something about his face.

He looked like…himself.For the first time in months, he looked like himself.

He looked like a king.


	11. Chapter 11

“What brought you here, Captain?” Namor asked.“Does the American government suddenly care what happens to Atlanteans?Or did you simply come here to put the mad king back in his cage?”

Steve shook his head.“I didn’t know about all of…this.I just came to make sure you were okay.”He’d been worried about Namor, both in terms of what he might do and what might happen to him.Bucky had left a message saying he was handling it, but that left Steve worried about both Namor and Bucky.

Namor arched an eyebrow.“And?”

“I’m glad to see that you are.”Namor did seem, at least by Namor standards, okay.He seemed more in control of himself than he did since before the breakdown that had led to therapy.And, while the U.S. government was unlikely to officially sanction Namor’s actions tonight, Steve was entirely comfortable with them.

Namor lowered his eyebrow. His expression shifted to a small, subtle smile.“You fought well today.”

“Thank you,” said Steve. “You too.”

—

“I am not going back to the psychiatrist,” said Namor.

 _Actually, she’s a therapist_ , Jim didn’t say.He’d learned about the difference between psychiatrists and therapists when he’d thought that kind of knowledge would help Namor.

It turned out he’d learned all the wrong things.

Bucky nodded.“Understood.

“I agree,” said Jim.

Steve looked tense.“Clearly what we’ve been doing hasn’t been working.You don’t need to do any therapy you’re not comfortable with.”

“No more psychiatrists,” Namor said.

Steve nodded.“If that’s what you want.”

“We want to help,” said Jim.“The therapist - we thought she would help.”It was what everyone recommended these days.If someone was having a nervous breakdown, or mental health issues, or whatever the current way of saying it was, you were supposed to encourage them to get help.It was important, possibly even life-saving, to encourage them to go to a therapist, keep working with the therapist, and listen to what the therapist said.

If you really loved the person, that was what you were supposed to do.

And it was, from what Jim could tell, _usually_ the correct advice.

But with Namor it had gone horribly wrong here.

Namor sighed.“I know. If I had not know that, I would not have stayed with her so long.”He looked Jim directly in the eye.“I trust you more than I have trusted anyone else in my life.If you were so sure it was what I needed, I thought it was worth putting aside my doubts.”

Jim swallowed hard. Knowing that made it worse.Knowing that Namor had spent all that time shut up with the therapist, growing dull, listless, apathetic, fading away, because he’d trusted Jim felt so much worse.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Namor put a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I forgive you.I know you meant well.And I know from my own experience what a well-meant mistake can do.”He slid his hand down Jim’s arm, and then took Jim’s hand.“And I know that, in spite of mistakes,” he said, giving Jim’s hand a tender squeeze, “you are the truest friend I have.”

—

“There is an island,” said Namor.He gave them the location.“It is quiet.Peaceful.Beautiful evening sunsets.Tomorrow, if you wish to come, we can talk.About Tommy.”

Bucky glanced around at the others, and then over at Namor.“Is that what you want?”

Namor nodded. “No strangers, no surface-dweller doctors.Just the Invaders.I think it can be good to talk, if the ones you talk to are friends.”

Something in Bucky’s mind immediately started composing an argument for the benefits of impartial professional therapists and the entire mental health system, but he put it aside.It had helped Bucky, but it hadn’t worked for Namor.And now was not the time.

Namor wanted to talk.That was, by itself, a lot.

“I’ll be there,” said Jim.

“Me too,” said Bucky. “I’m in.”

Steve nodded. “Of course.Do you want to invite Toro or Jackie?”

“For this,” said Namor, “I think it would be better if it was the four of us.”He looked out at the sea.“Come before sunset.I will provide food and wine.And we will talk.”

—

“Tomorrow.”

Emma looked at Namor.“Excuse me?”

“You can…eliminate Machan tomorrow.I will be ready then.”

Emma tilted her head.“Considering the generous compensation I’m receiving I don’t exactly object to taking more time, but why tomorrow?”

“I have something I need to do first.” Namor folded his arms.“I would prefer not to discuss it.”

Emma gave Namor a searching look.“Fair enough.But if you defect to Latveria again, I’m putting your brain on a leash.”

Namor smiled.“If you wanted to tie me up, Miss Frost, I’m sure we could devise some more enjoyable options.”

“Well, you do seem more like yourself.”She put a hand on his shoulder.“Whatever you’re doing, good luck.I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Namor had, as Bucky feared, brought Atlantean wine.

He'd also brought some of the excellent pre-war French wines he intermittently had a spare bottle of.

Bucky looked over the bottle and let out a low whistle. "You know this is worth a small fortune."

Namor shrugged."If you prefer to save it, you can drink the Atlantean wine instead."

"No thanks," said Bucky.He couldn't deal with that much salt.

There was also a fire pit, with some fish roasting.And some breadfruit cooking in the ashes.

"I caught them myself," said Namor."And cooked them."

That was promising.Out of all of the Invaders, Namor was always the best cook.Well, he was _usually_ the best cook.Occasionally he got into "Atlantean delicacy" territory, and that tended to go poorly for anyone who wasn't raised on raw fish and seal meat.But this looked good.

Namor served them each a portion of fish, some breadfruit, and a glass of wine.

“To Tommy!”

—

"Did I ever tell you about Tommy and the Italian girls?" Bucky asked. 

Steve nodded.So did Namor.It didn't really matter, though.Tonight wasn't the kind of night where you stopped telling stories because you'd told them before.

"I had a day's leave and was looking for someone to come along on a double date with me.There were these two Italian girls, Gina and Maria, and they were sisters.Gina was willing to go out with me, but only if I found a date for her older sister Maria.Tommy had only been there a couple of weeks, and he seemed friendly enough.Mainly I asked him because I knew he had leave on the same day as me.He said yes, although he didn't look too thrilled about it.I figured he was a little overawed on account of being around the legendary Captain America's Kid Sidekick." Bucky gave a self-deprecating laugh."So we went along, took the girls for a few drinks, and were planning on walking them home.The long way home, if you know what I mean

Except you could see Tommy wasn't having any fun.I mean he was perfectly polite, but Tommy was never much of an actor.When he smiled because he really meant it, you could see it on his whole face."

Namor nodded.

"He was smiling at Maria, but it wasn't like that.And there was this guy in far corner who kept giving Tommy looks.Tommy wouldn't meet the guy's eyes, but he kept glancing over. 

It took me two rounds to put the picture together, but I eventually realized who Tommy would rather be spending the evening with.

"You knew?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded."I'd seen that kind of thing before.I knew the military came down on gay men like a ton of bricks, so I didn't say anything.When did you figure it out?

"I had an idea as soon as he was transferred in," said Steve."Remember Paul who got transferred out?He told me he was Tommy was...well, he used an ugly word for it.I couldn't officially acknowledge it, because I had to uphold U.S. military regulations, but there was discretion in how to to implement them.I had a stern word with Paul about spreading rumors without proof and undermining morale.And then I kept an eye on things to do what I could to ensure there wouldn't be proof.

Jim blinked."Wait, does that mean that the last person to realize Tommy was gay was _Namor_?"

"You knew?" Namor asked.

"After you two started spending time together, I could see it in the way he looked at you."

“So Namor _was_ the last to realize Tommy was gay?” Bucky laughed.

Namor snorted."I can't keep track of your ridiculous surface-dweller conventions around sex and romance anyway. Dividing who you are allowed to be with by gender is stupid."

"So anyway," said Bucky."I got up to order another round.And I went and had a word with the guy. He was nervous that I was going to accuse him of something, but I let him know that if he wanted to have a drink with Tommy, well, it was safe to ask.Tommy ended up walking the Italian guy home and making it back to camp awfully late."Bucky glanced at Namor, but he was still smiling."Meanwhile, I ended up walking both sisters home early, and didn't get so much as a kiss."

—

"I remember the first time he saw a shark."Namor smiled."It was a blacktip reef shark.We had become...close, and I made a bubble, Atlantean style, for surface-dwellers, and I'd taken him out to one of the coral reefs .The Mediterranean had some beautiful reefs back then." The smile faded, and for a moment he looked ready to fall into a fit of brooding."We went out for a swim, and there was a blacktip reef shark under a small rock shelf.She was pregnant, and taking a bit of rest.That kind of shark does not like to attack humans, and this one was simply looking to be left alone.Still, I knew how surface-dwellers were about sharks, so I took Tommy's hand and swam him up to the surface.

He wasn't frightened.He thought she was beautiful." Namor's smile returned."That impressed me.A surface-dweller with the eyes and the mind to not simply think 'Shark!' and panic, but to truly see her, and see that she was beautiful.

I told him about the blacktip reef sharks, how we call them lazy sharks, for how they like to lie still.I told him what Atlantean scientists had learned about how, unlike most sharks, they can keep water flowing over their gills by opening and closing their mouths.I even told him the children's story of how Father Neptune let the lazy shark have a nap." Namor chuckled."I would have bored most men, but Tommy hung on my every word.And then he asked if we could go down and see her again."

—

"Poker night," said Jim."It's not much of a story, but before Tommy, no one asked me to come to poker night.I think the men felt awkward around me, with me not exactly being, you know, human.But Randall asked Tommy, and I was nearby, so Tommy turned to me and asked if I wanted to come."Jim smiled."It was nice.I mean a couple of them made jokes about me burning up the cards, but overall, it was fun."

—

"You _know_ it wasn't your fault, don't you?" Steve asked Namor. “Tommy.What happened to him wasn’t your fault.”

Namor sighed. "Your surface-dweller psychiatrists made that extremely clear."

"It's true, though.When I found you on the ground after the battle, I thought you were _dead!_ You pushed yourself harder than even _you_ could take, and we let you.”Steve sighed.“I let you.It was useful to me, you being so strong, so I relied on your strength too much and let you push yourself to impossible extremes.When it came time to save Tommy, you didn’t have enough strength left.”

Namor raised an eyebrow."You blame _yourself_ , Captain?Perhaps you are the one who should see a psychiatrist."

"I do see a therapist," said Steve. “Sometimes.” Not regularly, but he’d made some visits in the past.Usually it was a chore to get through to check a box for S.H.I.E.L.D. or some other agency.Sometimes it was actually a help.“Look, it's nothing to be ashamed of.It’s okay to need help.”

“Unless you are a king.”

Steve winced.”Namor..."

“No,” said Namor.“ _No_.I have spent far too much time listening to surface-dwellers explain to me how I should be, and correct and control the very words I spoke.I sat through their attempts at insight, which made it clear that they did not _understand_.And still I endured their corrections.No more.If you want me to speak, then do not correct me. _Listen_.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky spoke first.

"Okay," said Bucky.“Talk.We'll listen.No corrections.You just talk.” 

Jim's face held a worried frown, but he did't speak.

Steve nodded.

"Help cannot be relied on.If there is one thing I have learned in nearly a century of life, it is that help _cannot_ be relied on.Not even you.I do not speak of _blame_."He spoke the word with withering scorn. "I do not have the kind of madness that would _blame_ a man for being frozen, or missing, or mind-controlled, or dead.But when you are a king, when your life and your _soul_ is the protection of your people, blame is _irrelevant_.If help is needed, if it is not merely something you are willing to accept as a gift, but something that you truly _need_ , then your people have already been failed.Because help cannot be relied upon.All you can rely upon is your own strength.Needing help means you are not strong enough.And when I am not strong enough, innocent people die.Blamelessness is of no comfort, Captain, when surrounded by the bodies of all those I did not save."

Steve opened up his mouth, and then closed it again.He could see some issues with what Namor was saying, and he wasn't sure if Namor was being _entirely_ accurate about not blaming himself.

But he'd promised not to correct Namor.

"The psychiatrist, she was fixated on blamelessness.On every way I was too incapable, too helpless, too _powerless_ to protect others. Too powerless to protect even myself.She ground it in like salt in a wound, picking at my weaknesses over and over, as if believing I was weak would leave me healed."Namor paused, and then picked up the bottle and drained it. "Machan - not Tommy, but the Machan in my head, he also said I was weak.But unlike the psychiatrist, he promised to fix that.He promised he could make me strong."

"Oh," said Jim." _Oh_!"He put his hand to his mouth.

Namor stared moodily at the sea."If madness is the voice in my mind offering hope that I can be strong enough to save everyone, and wellness is the human in the chair telling me that I must accept that I am weak, I would a thousand times prefer to be insane.Well," he said, "I would prefer madness if not for what, in my fits of insanity, I do to the world."He looked up at the other Invaders."I did not know about the failure of the Genus Serum.I did not know it would kill.I swear to you, before Father Neptune, _I_ _did_ _not_ _know_."

Steve found the words "It's not your fault" springing automatically to his lips, but he stopped himself."Namor, I believe you," he said instead.

Jim stepped forward until he was almost touching Namor."Of course you didn't know!"

"What did you know?" Bucky asked."What parts did you know?"

Namor tensed. "I knew it would transform people.It would change them into Atlanteans, who would be welcomed as full citizens of my kingdom.There are so few of us left..."He broke off."I hoped, after the initial shock, to rely on voluntary transformation.And, eventually, offer all the surface dwellers who did not wish to remain a trip home. _Eventually_.When we were _secure_."He smiled wryly."So now you know the full measure of my guilt."

Jim pulled back. "Why would you do that?"

"I wondered, Hammond, when you would _finally_ come to see the villain in me."

"Namor," said Jim. "Tell me why."

Namor looked back towards the sea. "I thought it was the only way.I still do not know what other way there is.I do not believe humans are going to stop climate change, or pollution, or the thousand ways they are killing our world.I thought that if lives _they_ cared about depended on the protection of the ocean, not the lives of my kind, but lives _they_ thought had value, I could frighten them into saving the world before it was too late.I thought that would save my people, and also yours.But I failed.And now the world will get hotter and hotter until Atlantis will boil and the surface will burn.

"I understand," said Jim.

Namor looked at him."Do you?"

Jim nodded. "More than you can imagine."He took a deep breath."There was, not that long ago, a civilization of robots living under the earth.And they wanted to come to the surface and take their place alongside the humans.And the humans wouldn't let them."He paused and shook his head."They decided to change the humans.Not kill the humans.In some ways, make them better.Happier.Healthier.But change them.And not ask permission.In the end, either the humans would be changed against their will or the robots would die."He paused and drew another deep breath."I...I had to choose.I chose humans, finally.I still don't know if I did the right thing or not.Sometimes I think I made the wrong choice."

Steve turned to Jim. "I didn't know that."He had heard some of the reports from S.H.I.E.L.D., but not the full story.And Jim had never wanted to talk about it."Jim...you have to know you did the right thing."

"I _don't_ know," said Jim, looking up at Steve with surprising intensity."I hope I was right.I hope humanity was worth it.But, Steve, I don't actually know.I never will know.”He turned back to Namor.“So I understand."

Namor gave Jim an intense look."Yes, I suppose you do."He took Jim's hand."Right or wrong, sometimes it is necessary to make a choice.And to live with the consequences."

Jim nodded."And not torture yourself over how things turned out."

"Do you not torture yourself, Jim?"

Jim smiled weakly."I try not to.I remind myself that it doesn't help with anything

Namor nodded again."I will try to remember that."He looked at the sea again."I did not think that anyone would understand."

"Maybe not humans," said Jim.He looked at Steve and Bucky."No offense.

"None taken," said Bucky, before Steve could speak.

Steve nodded. There was so much about this he didn't understand.There was so much he couldn't understand.He had always been, even at his most alienated, an American and a member of the human race.He'd tried to include Namor in that, as the half-human son of an American.It had been Steve's way of showing kindness, and even love.

But sometimes, it turned out, Namor needed something else.

Steve was reminded of the first time he and Sam had a real conversation about racism in America.Because, as Sam had said, sometimes Steve _didn't_ know what it was like. Sometimes he couldn't know what it was like.And, sometimes, he couldn't say anything to fix it.

But he could always listen.

—

As the sun rose, Jim watched Steve and Bucky’s plane fly off.“So where are you going next?”

“Emma Frost,” said Namor.“I think she will now find it easier to remove this ghost.And, as soon as Namora approves, I will resume my duties as king.”

“So that’s it?Back to normal?”Jim bit his lip.He wanted to say more, talk about how back to normal wasn’t _good_ for Namor, how

Namor nodded. 

They stood in silence for a moment, and then Namor spoke again.“Namora is a capable regent,” he said.

Jim nodded.“Yeah.She’s very responsible.”

“She knows her duty to Atlantis.”Namor stared out at the sea some more.“I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking that, with Namora as regent, I might, from time to time, take some…vacation.”

“Yes?”Jim looked at Namor, and tried to keep his voice level.

“I was thinking that it might be a good idea to take times when, rather than tend to the royal duties constantly, I can rest.Visit old friends, if there are any who wish to have me. And, from time to time, talk.”

Jim nodded.“I think that’s a good idea,” he said carefully.He still felt unsettled about Namor giving up on therapy and going back to his usual.He didn’t want Namor to give up on the idea of being able to get help, and going back to silently carrying everything alone until he broke.

But the past few days seemed to have helped Namor in the way that a year of therapy hadn’t. 

And if Namor was going to start voluntarily taking time away to rest, and reaching out to friends when he needed to, that meant he _wasn’t_ giving up. 

“It would be helpful to me,” said Jim, “if you wanted to come by and talk.I’m writing that book, and talking to people who were there helps to refresh the memory and understand what was on everyone’s mind.Randall Peterson said I can interview him.”

Namor nodded.“That is good.”

“I think he’d like to see you again.”Jim looked out at the sea.“And I was thinking of getting a place by the ocean myself.Somewhere out of the way.Probably a small place, something simple and cozy.Big enough for a guest, though.”When he’d started looking at options, he’d been thinking that Toro might want to stay over.“There is always room for…a friend.”

Namor turned to Jim and smiled.“That is good to hear.”


	12. Chapter 12

The moment Emma stepped inside Namor’s head, she could see things had changed.

Namor looked better.More himself.More real.

She gestured and pulled up the entanglement between Namor and Machan.It had thinned considerably.This was going to be far easier to solve.

“Did you finally find a competent therapist?” Emma asked. 

Namor shook his head.“I found…a different solution.”

“As long as it works.”She made a few probing gestures towards the entanglement.“Undoing this shouldn’t cause any _damage_ , but it is going to hurt.

Namor nodded.“I am ready for the pain.”

“I think it will be smoother if I remove the containment.It should only be a few moments.Do you think you can stay in control?”If he couldn’t, well, Emma could keep him asleep until she got this thing back in the box.But it would be a lot to juggle at once, and she would like to be prepared

“I can.”Namor sounded quietly confident.

Emma made the containment vanish.

Machan appeared. 

“My king, you have come back to me.”

“I have come to end you,” said Namor.“You are not Tommy Machan.You are a perversion of his memory, that is all.And it is time that you were undone.”

Emma started working, untangling the strands between them from Namor’s sense of self, working as carefully as she could

Machan let out a pained yell, and started to fade.His skin started to change from blue to pink, and for a moment, he looked like a human. “Namor, please!Don’t let them do this to me!

Namor’s jaw was clenched.For the first time Emma had seen, he had tears running down his face.“It is too late for Tommy.And it does nothing to carry his ghost.Goodbye.

Machan faded and vanished

Namor bent over, face in his hands, and let out a howl of anguish

“It’s over,” said Emma.“It’s done.

Namor straightened up, his face still wet with tears. “Yes.It is.”He looked at Emma. “Tommy, the man that thing stole the image of, I loved him.And I could not save him.

Emma gave what she hoped was a sympathetic nod.“I understand.”She reached out and took Namor’s hand.“Time to wake up.”

Namor stopped briefly before the throne.He put a hand on the armrest and steadied himself mentally

It had been a long absence since he’d last sat on the throne.Not the longest of his life, but it felt longer.It had been so filled with nothing.

He wondered what the members of the royal court thought of his return. 

They knew he had been absent.This was not new.

They knew he had been insane.This was also not entirely new

More worryingly, they knew he had been among the surface-dwellers.And they knew he had been weak.

There would be conflict over this.Struggle from those who saw his weakness as their opportunity.To hold power, he would have to fight

Namor smiled.He had never been afraid of a fight

He took the throne.He had, above all, duty.

“Show them in."

—

The group of Atlantean soldiers looked better than they had back at the Roxxon facility.Healthier.Their injuries had been treated. 

Namor could see, in the way they moved, that they were still marked by their experience.The fear and pain had settled in, and had not yet left.He would need to speak to their commanding officers discreetly later, and see if it would be wise for them to be reassigned to some work that was unlikely to be hazardous.

Something genuinely necessary, of course. 

He would _not_ subject them to the humiliation of not being of use.

One by one, Namor presented them with medals.“I honor your courage, warrior.”

One by one, they accepted them. “Thank you, my king.

At the end of the ceremony, the tall one, Aivil, turned.“My king, Kora?”

“Her memory will be honored.”

“Thank you.I…would have saved her, but I was not strong enough.”

Namor nodded.“I know that pain.”

“You do?”

“I have lost…comrades in battle who were beloved to me, when I was not strong enough.”

 _“You?”_ Aivil’s eyes widened in surprise.“You’re so strong.”

“It is not always possible to be strong enough.” Namer looked down.“It is a painful thing.The memory of those you did not save never leaves you.”He looked up.“Let it hurt, but do not let it haunt you.And remember those you _did_ protect.”

“Thank you, my king.”


End file.
